


The Rising Pit

by TotallyMature



Series: The Olympian King [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, Takes place after trials of Apollo, features descriptions of CFS; depression; suicidal thoughts; etc, isn't this fun(:, though ToA isn't actually finished yet so I have no idea how it ends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-08-11 09:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16472786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyMature/pseuds/TotallyMature
Summary: Things have been too quiet at Camp Half-Blood. So, naturally, all hell breaks loose. Zeus and Poseidon are at it again, and this time, Hades is taking sides. To make matters worse, Camp Jupiter is inundated with hoards of monsters, and almost all communication with Camp Half-Blood has stopped. All the while, Zagreus lurks in the shadows, waiting for Zeus knows what.Actually, scratch that. It looks like Zeus has no idea either.





	1. Wolves are Easily Provoked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Read part one of the series first!! Otherwise this one will probably make zero sense

**YUNISE**  

Why do dead people think letters explain everything? Yunise might have been angry, except the letter rose too many questions.

Her mom’s death wasn’t unexpected. In fact, it was about as painless as death could be. She’d known it was coming, and so had Yunise. She was old. Especially for a mom, seeing as Yunise was only 15. It hadn’t been pretty, seeing her slowly fade away, but Yunise had always been tough.

She looked it, too. Her black hair was inexpertly cut short (she’d done it herself, and rather liked the rugged appearance it gave her). Her eyes were a dark golden brown. It was lucky she was as tough as she looked, because she was a short Asian tomboy. Or, in the eyes of her childhood bully, a target.

Yunise stood, at the moment, in front of a pile of rubble, an abstract sculpture of grey bricks with timber beams sticking out of it like broken ribs. She checked the letter her mother left her, finding it hard to believe that this was the place, but the address was clear. This was where her mom wanted her to go. She read the letter again.

 

_Dearest Yunise,_

_I cannot explain everything, and even if I could, I doubt you would believe me. But I know you know you are different. Now that I am gone, it is time you learned who you are. For answers, look at the map I’ve given you. Good luck._

 

Vague, strange and tantalizing. A typical I-can’t-explain-everything letter. It was short and to the point. Their goodbyes, after all, had been exchanged in person. Yunise had hurt and mourned and stared at walls. And then she had found this letter. The note was the first page; the second page was a map, including directions, an address, and enough money to make the short journey to Sonoma Valley. To this pile of rubble.

Yunise might not have gone at all if it weren’t for the line “I know you know you are different.” _That_ was what made her angry. All her life, she’d been unusual. Strange things happened around her, but her mom would always refuse to acknowledge them. At age 6, Yunise had given up telling her, and instead, she focused on training herself, honing her… _gifts_.

“Here goes nothing,” she said to no-one in particular, and she stepped into the rubble, waiting for answers to appear out of thin air. At first, nothing happened, and she walked deeper through the brick-free patches that had probably once been rooms. Further in, she could see that a few parts- a chamber, a hallway, maybe a wall or two- were still standing, and she decided those were the right way. Half indoors, half outdoors, the walls and ceiling were still able to cast her in shadow. The sun was setting, and the smell of twilight mixed with the smell of powdered brick.

Yunise was about to give up and return home when the Wolf appeared.

It was massive- taller than any human- and had rust-colored fur that glinted in the red sunset. Though she stood in the shadow of the nearest wall, her eyes glowed with a fierce silver light. Yunise probably should have been scared. She wasn't.

“Greek,” said the Wolf, sounding slightly disappointed. Her voice was female, but underneath it was a powerful bestial growl. She began prowling around Yunise, looking at her as if sizing her up for a meal. Yunise stood her ground. “But defiant, strong,” she said more approvingly. “Self-assured, too. Do you want to run away, little girl?”

“No, but you might want to.” Yunise’s head was spinning slightly, but she wasn’t shocked. Surprised, but not shocked. She had long since decided to believe in magic, though she wished her mom could have confirmed her suspicions while she was alive. At her words, the Wolf laughed.

“A good deal of nerve. I like you.”

“Are you going to explain anything?”

“Like what?”

“My mom sent me here for answers,” said Yunise, her voice challenging. “I’m not leaving till I get some.”

“We will talk elsewhere,” said the Wolf. “Follow-”

“We will talk here,” said Yunise. “Answers. Now.” The Wolf gave a quiet laugh, but anger stirred behind her silver eyes.

“Spunk. Not bad. What kind of answers do you want?”

“You said ‘Greek’,” said Yunise. “What does that mean?”

“It means Greek,” said the Wolf unhelpfully. “Not Roman. But you’ve got the makings of a legionnaire.” Yunise’s mind started to whir.

“I want answers, not more questions.”

“Your mother,” said the Wolf. “How much has she told you?”

“Zilch,” said Yunise bitterly. “Looks like it’s your job. Greek and Roman, what do you mean by that?”

“How many of the myths do you know?” said the Wolf slyly, her canine lip curling.

“Greek and Roman myths? Enough. Why?”

“You do know,” said the Wolf, prowling around Yunise once again, “that many of the heroes of those stories were half god?”

“Half god,” said Yunise, resisting the urge to look around as the Wolf passed behind her. She was close, and Yunise could feel her breath on her neck. “Are you saying… what I can do…”

“I don’t know,” said the Wolf, turning to face Yunise once again. “What _can_ you do?” Yunise decided it was about time for a threat.

“This.” She flicked her wrist. The wall behind the Wolf was blasted away, spraying the rubble with an extra layer of bricks. The wall was already in ruin, so it didn’t take much effort. That old pull in her stomach was barely noticeable.

“Impressive,” said the Wolf. Her silver eyes widened as if she was raising her eyebrows. “You’ve trained yourself.”

“I’ve had to,” said Yunise. “Monsters are real.”

“But you’re not strong enough yet.”

“Who even are you?”

“I am Lupa, the wolf goddess.”

“You…” Yunise racked her brains. “You trained Romulus and Remus.” Lupa nodded.

“And you’re here so that I can judge you. Do you think yourself worthy of my training?”

“Easily,” said Yunise. Lupa stared at her, and Yunise refused to look away.

“A Roman must respect her commanders. You have a lot to learn, Yunise Quarter. You seem strong enough to endure my training, but I’ve been wrong before.”

“Strong enough,” said Yunise, her heart pumping a little faster. “What do you mean ‘strong enough’?”

“Rome cannot house the weak,” said Lupa, her eyes glowing brighter. “I sort out the weak from the strong. Those that can endure it become my cubs. Those that can’t…”

“What?” said Yunise, clenching her fists tighter. Lupa was touching a nerve. “What do you do to the ones you don’t deem strong enough?” At her words, Lupa growled, and a series of other growls echoed. Before she knew it, Yunise was surrounded by wolves, all similar to Lupa, though none quite as large.

“We devour them,” said Lupa dangerously. “The twelfth legion cannot survive with an army of cowards.”

“You… you what,” said Yunise. It wasn’t a question. She had heard perfectly. Lupa growled again, but Yunise refused to flinch.

“You would rather we let Rome fall?” said Lupa. “Let hundreds die instead of a few?”

“‘Cubs’,” said Yunise very quietly. The wolves around her began to approach. “You call them your cubs. Do you think of yourself as a mother, Lupa?”

“A mother of Rome,” said Lupa. The red sunset was starting to make her fur look like wet blood. “And of the Twelfth Legion. More of a mother than yours.”

“You dare,” said Yunise, almost at a whisper. She could feel her blood boiling, her fists shaking at her sides. She stared at Lupa with an uncontained wrath. “You sort the weak from the strong. You isolate the most vulnerable, the most scared, the most hurt, the most broken. You take them aside and you, you kill them.” Lupa was on her paws now, looking down at Yunise with murder in her eyes. “And you dare, you _dare_ call yourself a mother.”

“Conquer or die,” said Lupa softly. “It seems I misjudged you. Your blood is too greek.”

“You’ll have to kill me.” Yunise lied, her fury turning her face to stone. “I’m too weak for your training. I guess you’ll have to kill me.” Around her, the wolves growled hungrily. Lupa seemed to be deciding something. She knew Yunise was lying, but she looked like she was figuring out how much of her time Yunise was worth.

“If you say so,” said Lupa. The wolves took that as an order, and they pounced at once, their fangs bared. Lupa joined in, diving towards Yunise with a vicious snarl.

Of course, Yunise had expected that. The wolves’ first mistake was fighting her in a place like this, where she was surrounded by loose bricks. Their second mistake was fighting her at all. She yelled, the pull in her gut strong but manageable, and the rubble around her flew into the air as if caught in a detonation. The smaller wolves were thrown back, but the largest kept forwards. At least, until they received a pile of bricks to the face. Lupa was the only one unscathed. She dodged the projectiles and dived again.

Yunise, ready for her, pointed directly between her eyes. She flicked her wrist and sent the she-wolf flying back through the air. But Lupa was strong. The pain of the effort caused Yunise to double over, though she knew she couldn’t afford that luxury for long. She gritted her teeth and stood up, running between the wolves buried in bricks and back out of the rubble. She made it back to the street, but could still hear the sound of wolves on her tail, so she sent another downpour of bricks behind her without looking. From the sound of it, she’d hit at least one, but the rest followed relentlessly. Yunise knew she could never outrun them. She didn’t even have much of a head start. When she stopped and turned to face them, her eyes widened at the sight of them almost upon her, Lupa in the lead.

As a last resort, she pointed to the ground, trying not to think about how much this was going to hurt. She flicked her wrist again, but this time instead of focusing on blasting objects away from her, she turned the energy in on herself, holding it like a disturbed coke bottle before she unscrewed the metaphorical bottlecap.

The release of energy sent her flying, she saw the wolves watch her rocket into the air. Luckily, it didn’t look like they could fly, and Yunise saw them turn and walk back to the pile of rubble, no less prideful for her escape. Unluckily, Yunise didn’t have a plan for the way down. The blast had caused her so much pain she’d curled her body up like a cannonball, her muscles screaming with agony. It was all she could do to point her feet towards the ground before she hit it. Hard. The crash of her collision and the crunch of her leg bones were the last things she heard before she blacked out.


	2. Big Maple Mobility

**YUNISE**

As a general rule, legs aren’t supposed to go _crunch_. Yunise expected to wake up in excruciating pain and was shocked by how tame her agony was. When she regained consciousness, she found herself lying on the dry ground of a dark alleyway. The night sky was starless due to the light pollution, and her legs were washed in both an intense dull ache and the light of a nearby streetlamp. She sat up, her head only spinning severely, instead of overwhelmingly. Looking around, she almost jumped out of her skin when she saw another girl who must have been watching her sleep.

She had skin and eyes the color of warm coffee after a long day, and her dappled gold wheelchair was cast in the grayscale shadow of darkness. She was young but definitely older than Yunise, who guessed she was maybe 18 or 19 years old. Seeing Yunise wake, she wheeled into the light, causing her chair to glint with color as if made of the essence of fall.

“Who are you?” said Yunise, shifting her weight slightly but flinching when a jolt of pain shot through her chest.

“Careful,” said the girl. She looked older than Yunise, though not by much, and her voice had a very soft New York accent. “Looks like a broken rib. Not to mention your legs.”

“What did you do?” asked Yunise. She knew what broken bones felt like, and this was not it. “You can’t have healed them already.”

“This,” said the girl. She reached back and took a backpack that had been fastened to the back of the chair. She rummaged in it and took out a thermos flask, which she tossed to Yunise, who opened it and saw a golden liquid slosh around at the bottom. “Drink some.” She put the flask to her lips, took a tiny sip, and was astounded to find it tasted exactly like her mother’s signature soup dumplings (which is to say: delicious).

“What is it?” she said, screwing the lid back on.

“No idea,” said the girl. “I’m Jasmine, by the way.”

“Thanks,” said Yunise, tossing the thermos back to her. She caught it and stuffed it back into her bag. “I’m Yunise.”

“Nasty fall,” said Jasmine. “Whatever this is, it’s magical. Not a miracle worker, though. It hasn’t healed you completely.”

“How do you know?” Jasmine shrugged.

“Basic first aid training. Comes in handy more often than you think.”

“And… did you say magical?” Yunise’s brain was still sluggish, and she tried to jumpstart her cognitive faculties.

“Must be,” said Jasmine. “You do believe in magic, don’t you?”

“Of course. It’s good to meet someone else who does.” Yunise breathed a little too hard, and her ribs flared up again. “Where’d you get that healing stuff?”

“Stole it from a police station in New York,” said Jasmine. Whatever Yunise had expected, it wasn’t that. Jasmine must have seen her surprise because she laughed a little. “No one suspects the disabled girl.”

“I guess not”

“So what are you?” asked Jasmine. “I’m guessing you aren’t entirely human.”

“How did you…” began Yunise, but she figured it wasn’t too surprising that the girl with the magic dumpling smoothie would know things she shouldn’t. “Half-god, apparently. You?"

“All human, as far as I know,” said Jasmine. “When did you find out?” Yunise checked her phone. It was 5am, December 13th.

“Just last night,” she said. Jasmine looked strangely disappointed.

“Ah. I was hoping you might have some answers.”

“Me?” asked Yunise incredulously. “I’m all questions, baby.”

“You must know something. You’re the half-god in this situation.”

“Well...” said Yunise, unsure. “It looks like Greek and Roman gods exist.”

“Old news,” said Jasmine. “But I’m glad to hear someone else say it. Makes me feel a little less crazy.”

“You’re not the only one. But...” Yunise puzzled the inconsistencies. “Aren’t they the same gods with different names?”

“Beats me. What about these?” Jasmine reached into her bag again and pulled out three strange objects. The first (and most normal-looking) was a thick metal bracelet; the second was a tiny metal harp; and the third was a stack of gold coins, each at least as big as her palm. Yunise got up tenderly and walked over to Jasmine. At least, she tried to walk, but her half-healed legs permitted little more than a shuffle without exploding in agony, and even then every step caused a stab of pain. Reaching Jasmine, she took the most curious object- the stack of coins- and examined it. None of it was real money. Each had a strange symbol on one side, and a tall building on the other.

“No idea,” said Yunise, handing them back to Jasmine, who stuffed them into her bag.

“And these?” she asked, holding up the tiny harp and the bracelet.

“I mean, that’s just a bracelet, isn’t it? And that’s probably a kid’s toy.”

“Play it,” said Jasmine, holding out the harp.

“Uh, I’m not great with-”

“ _Play it_.” Wondering nervously if Jasmine might secretly be a harp maniac, Yunise took the harp and strummed it at random. Her mouth fell open when her haphazard playing somehow resulted in a perfect rendition of “The Little Swallow”, an old Chinese nursery rhyme her mom used to sing.

“How the fuck?”

“See what I mean,” said Jasmine, taking the harp back. “What about this?” She held out the bracelet and Yunise stared at it. She might have been surprised by the harp, but surely this was just a bracelet, right?

Nope. As soon as she took it, it began to morph, elongating and shifting in Yunise’s hand until her fingers were gripped around the handle of a long sword that glowed a gentle bronze.

“Holy-” Jasmine tried to get out of the way, but she was too slow. Within a second, the sword had reached its full length, impaling her neatly in the chest. Only, it didn’t seem to matter much. Yunise flinched and pulled back the sword, but it seemed to pass though Jasmine as easily as if it were a hologram.

“What the…” said Yunise, staring at the blade.

“Stab me again,” Jasmine insisted. Yunise made a mental note of how weird a request that was before she obliged, poking Jasmine gently with the tip of the sword. Again, it passed right through her as if she were a ghost. “Does that mean it’s not a real sword?”

“I… guess?” said Yunise. Curious, she put the blade against the palm of her hand and slide it gently along her skin, but she stopped as soon as she felt pain. Lifting the sword, she saw it had left a small white scratch and would have cut a lot deeper if Yunise had put any pressure on it.

Yunise looked back at Jasmine. She stepped cautiously forward and, with her free hand, poked Jasmine in the shoulder.

“Uh… what are you doing?”

“You’re not a ghost, then.”

“Nope. Must be the sword,” said Jasmine. Yunise stared at it, wondering how it could have disguised itself as a bracelet, and as soon as the image of the bracelet appeared in her mind, the sword started to shrink. The blade receded into the handle like a frightened mouse, and before she knew it, she was holding a metal bracelet once again.

“Huh. Might come in handy.” Yunise slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. Then she sat down as gingerly as she could manage. Standing for so long was starting to sting. “Why was all this stuff in a police station?”

“A couple of half-gods got arrested. Their stuff got confiscated.”

“Wait, back up,” said Yunise. “There are other half-gods?” Jasmine shrugged.

“Must be. You can find all kinds of weird stuff as soon as you start looking.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I didn’t always believe in this stuff. But I’m not an idiot. Too many weird things happened, so I started looking for answers. And as soon as I started looking for them, I started finding them. It’s like… they’re hidden. Disguised as normal.”

“Yeah,” said Yunise seriously. “I know what you mean.” She remembered her 15th birthday party at the park. Two older girls watched them from a distance the entire time. They looked normal enough. Until they approached. Yunise still shivered when she remembered the sight of their legs: one donkey, one metal. Of course, no one believed her afterward. “Monsters are real.”

“Looks like it. Then, this summer, I started seeing them everywhere. Monsters, all from Greek mythology. I felt like I’d seen it all when three half-gods ran into my shop to escape the police on their tail.”

“How do you know they were half-gods?”

“I didn’t at first. But I got taken in for questioning, asked about the contents of their backpack.” She gestured at the bracelet and the harp. “They were either half-gods or really well disguised friendly monsters.”

“So you stole their stuff?”

“They stole a wheelchair from me. Fair’s fair. Though,” she said, “they did give it back. If I see them again I’ll give them their stuff back. Plus, I figured it was better than leaving a magical backpack in the hands of the police.”

“Good call. But if you’re from NYC, what’re you doing out here?”

“It was the best lead I had. There was a story in the news about mass panic in California. People were talking about a lion-goat-snake creature. Then, a few days later, everyone agreed it had been a wild dog.”

“Sounds like a cover-up.”

“I thought the same,” said Jasmine, nodding. “So I came out here to investigate.”

“What did you find?”

“You.” A sly smile flickered over Jasmine’s face. There was a moment of silence between them before Yunise spoke.

“So where do we go now?” It was the first time anyone had believed what she did, and she wasn’t about to let Jasmine out of her sight. Jasmine shrugged.

“Looking for answers, I guess.”

“I’ll call for a ride back to civilization. It’ll be expensive though, this time of night.”

“I’ve got money. We don’t need to go far, I’d just prefer to be somewhere a little warmer. There’s a diner nearby.”

“If it’s nearby we can just walk.”

“Nope,” said Jasmine looking pointedly at Yunise. “You’re in no fit state to walk.” Yunise wanted to protest, but the pain in her legs made a very convincing argument.

“Maybe there we can look for any more weird news stories. They can’t have covered them all up.”

“I dunno,” said Jasmine doubtfully as Yunise got out her phone. “They seem pretty good at keeping things hidden, whoever ‘they’ are. It was only for a couple of weeks during summer that monsters seemed to be everywhere. Then they all just disappeared. Wonder what happened.”

“Yeah...” she said as she opened Uber. “Looks like it’s up to us to find out.”

* * *

It took a surprisingly short time for the Uber to arrive. It was a small, forgettable black car driven by an extremely tall and muscular man, with what looked like his equally tall and muscular brother riding shotgun. They had the same muddy hair and uneven teeth. Yasmine was cautious at first- she’d heard her fair share of taxi horror stories- but, worst case scenario, Yunise knew she could fight her way out. Once Jasmine and Yunise were inside, they began conversing in hushed voices so that their drivers wouldn’t hear.

“You said a lion-goat-snake creature?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ve heard of it before. It sounds like a Chimera. From what I remember, it breathes fire, too.”

“Yikes,” said Jasmine. “Let’s hope we don’t run into it.”

“Did you find any other weird news stories?”

“That was the only one. Except in Florida, but everything that happens in Florida sounds made up. You?”

“Not news stories, but weird stuff has always happens around me. Monsters that look normal until it’s too late.”

“You’re still alive, though,” said Jasmine. Yunise raised her eyebrows.

“You noticed.”

“But if it was ‘too late’, how’d you fight them off?”

“Everyone underestimates me. Being half god has perks.”

“What kind of perks?” Jasmine lowered her voice and leaned in, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“It's not always easy, but I can-” Jasmine held up her hand, cutting Yunise off. Her eyes were alert, and Yunise followed her gaze to the men in the front of the car.

“Uh, this isn’t the right way,” said Jasmine.

“It is, miss,” said the driver with a gruff, unruly voice. “Taking a shortcut.”

“You’re going in the opposite direction.” Yunise looked out the windows. They were in the outskirts of town, hopping from dirt road to dirt road. As they continued, the houses outside became shabbier and darker. She started to fiddle with her bracelet, though she realized she couldn’t be sure it would even work on these men. But that didn’t scare her. She didn’t need a sword to take them down.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” said the man riding shotgun. His voice was smoother, and he spoke more intelligently. “You could take someone’s eye out with that.” Yunise glanced up and saw he was looking at her in the rear-view mirror. Only his face wasn’t quite right. It was difficult to look above his crooked teeth.

“With what?” asked Yunise with an edge to her voice. “It’s just a bracelet.”

“Ha!” said the driver. “Bracelet!” Yunise didn’t know what he found funny, but she knew she didn’t like it. They seemed to know more than they should. Fearing the worst, Yunise looked back at the mirror, seeing the man’s blue eyes stare at her. They were large and bloodshot, and she felt her eyes try to point themselves away, as if afraid of what they might see. But she focused her gaze, looking piercingly at the man’s eyes.

It was only when one giant, inhuman eye stared back at her that she realized what was wrong.


	3. Death by Heterosexuality

**DAMON**

The worst part about being broken is when you can’t be fixed. All too often, to be fixed you need not to be broken in the first place. Damon sat alone in his room. Less than a tenth of the floor was visible, the rest hidden under an indistinct horizon of debris. Old clothes, scraps of paper, pencils, pens, half-read books and more littered the floor so completely that Damon appeared to sit on an island of bed amidst a pacific mess.

But he didn’t move. He wanted to clean up, to open the window, to feel the icy December air on his face: a reminder that he was alive. But he didn’t move, because he couldn’t move. The slimy thing inside his skull that might once have been a brain was putrefying. He was so empty, it felt like he was a delicate sculpture of hollow skin that might implode at the slightest touch. And he needed to get to school.

It took a while. He ran late, but that wasn’t unusual. Every step was exhausting, and his body ran like a Hephaestus automaton. On his walk to school, his mind seemed to have stayed behind in his disgusting bedroom. He walked slower, and he ran later. Last year, he’d been expelled because his teacher was a horse monster that had tried to kill him. This year, he was going to be expelled because of something far less exciting: attendance.

He really didn’t have the time to stop, but around halfway there he passed a house with a display of lavender that hung out onto the street like a nicer-smelling weeping willow. A single fat bumblebee was hopping from stem to stem. Damon couldn’t help but smile at it. It was December, and the lavender wasn’t doing too great; the few purple blossoms it had were sad and wilting. But the bee was there anyway. Despite the frost and the biting winter air, the bee flitted resolutely around the lavender, searching for scraps of nectar. Damon dug his fingernails into his palms and tried to jerk his brain back into his head. It hurt, like some sort of depressive whiplash, and he didn’t feel fixed. But he felt the tiniest bit better. He felt so little better that to others the change might have been unnoticeable, but to Damon, it felt how he imagined happiness must feel.

His head now a modicum clearer, Damon checked up and down the street to see if anyone was watching. Ahead of him was a girl with long, silky brown hair that fluttered behind her as she walked. Behind him was a shorter African American girl with long, curly hair brown hair and a snug purple hoodie. She was walking towards Damon, but she was still too far away to see what he was doing, so he turned back to the lavender.

Concentrating, Damon gently poked the lavender. He could feel the network of stems and roots like a hologram in his head, or version of touch that reached beyond his body. Then, under his guidance, the lavender began twisting like one overly large snake. Purple blossoms began to pop up like crazy, until the lavender looked vibrant, almost glowing with health. Satisfied, Damon stepped back, wiping beads of cold sweat from his forehead. As the days grew shorter and colder, growing plants like this had become harder. Since Damon was a son of Persephone, this wasn’t surprising, though it was unavoidably discouraging. During Summer, he’d become almost as good at growing flowers as anyone from the Demeter Cabin, and now it felt that practice had been pointless. Of course, as it was winter, he _should_ find the darker side of his powers easier. Unfortunately, there weren’t really that many bones to practice levitating in New Jersey.

But the effort had been worth it. The bee hummed excitedly at its new wealth of nectar. It even flew around Damon several times, as if curious, before bumping into his shoulder (which Damon liked to imagine was bumblebee for ‘thanks’) and returning to the flowers. Damon lost himself watching the bee, smiling at its clumsy, happy flight patterns, and was only brought back to reality when the African American girl passed him. Damon looked up, embarrassed, before slipping his hands into his pockets and walking to school. As he left, he stole a final glance at the lavender, but the bee had disappeared. Maybe it was going to go tell its hive about this new treasure trove of lavender and be celebrated by its fellow bees. Damon hoped so. He wanted that bee to be happy.

Coincidentally, Damon followed the African American girl all the way to school. When they reached the front gates, she slipped inside. Despite looking a similar age to Damon, he had never seen her around school before. Though, of course, Damon so rarely attended school that most people there looked unfamiliar to him.

Luckily, Damon had arrived during lunch, so he didn’t have to do the ‘sorry I’m late’ and feel the eyes of the entire class follow him to his seat. Just the thought of that made his palms sweat. He wiped them on his jeans as subtly as he could and continued walking past the few kids who were still hanging outside despite the cold. They were all shivering and looked unkempt and sleazy, their winter jackets apparently none too effective at deterring the cold. In the distance, Damon noticed the African American girl standing alone by a bush, apparently talking into a phone. Nearer the grey school building, he saw an unfamiliar teacher with greasy black hair that was slicked back in a failed attempt to make it businesslike. He was tall, and he would have been more intimidating if he didn’t look very obviously uncomfortable in the clean black suit he was wearing. Next to him was a girl Damon actually recognized- her flowing, silky brown hair marked her unmistakably as the girl Damon had seen on his way here. Her face, now that he could see it, was pale and expertly made up, with lipstick so brightly scarlet that it appeared to glow- even at this distance. He figured the teacher was probably reprimanding her for arriving late, and carefully skirted around the pair to avoid receiving a similar treatment. He sat alone on an old bench at the edge of campus, pulling his jacket tighter around his body as a blast of cold air brushed over him.

Damon spent the rest of lunch where he spent a lot of his time: lost in thought. Over the last few months, more exciting things had happened to him than in most people’s entire lifetimes. But Damon didn’t feel excited. Sometimes he didn’t feel anything. He should be on the lookout for monsters, he should be on edge, he should be practicing. But sword fighting is hard enough at the best of times, let alone when you can’t get out of bed. He tried to fight it, but this was a monster a good stab from celestial bronze couldn’t fix.

The best he could do was think about the tiniest things. That stupid bee, ignoring the cold, the danger, the everything uncomfortable about winter. It flew anyway. Damon tried to do the same, but knowing you have a reason to keep living doesn’t always mean you can see it.

“Hiya,” said a voice. Damon jerked his head up and saw the girl with silky brown hair, who had apparently escaped her confrontation with the greasy teacher and followed him to the bench, where she sat beside him. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Uh…” the girl’s voice was overly bright, and her smile might have been genuine, only it was a little too wide. “I-”

“I’m Carla,” she said, not waiting for his answer. “What’s your name?”

“Damon,” he managed. His brain was stalling like an old car, unsure of what Carla was doing here.

“That’s nice,” she said. She might have been a robot, with the way she talked. “It’s a nice day.”

“...is it?” Damon asked. To him, the day was sad, gray and cold. At his words, Carla’s smile twitched, as if in annoyance.

“Yes, it is,” she said more forcefully. “You do like me, don’t you?”

“Uh…” said Damon again. He wasn’t trying to be rude, but he’d never met Carla before and was aggressively unprepared for such a weird conversation. Once again, Carla seemed to twitch in irritation before widening her smile even further.

“But you _do_ think I’m pretty.” This time, it wasn’t a question. It was as if she was telling him what he thought, whether or not it was true.

“I mean…” She _was_ pretty, with flawless skin and makeup and perfect hair. Her eyes glittered blue with flecks of gold and green and even purple. But it felt incredibly weird to say. For multiple reasons. She shuffled closer to him on the bench. One hand was hidden behind her back, while the other rested on Damon’s knee, making him even more uncomfortable.

“You’re cold,” she said.

“Yeah, uh,” Damon stuttered. For some reason, this made Carla smile even more brightly. “It’s a cold day.”

“You’ll want someone to warm you up.”

“I… what do you mean?” Carla was inching closer.

“I can warm you up,” said Carla, almost in a whisper. “We can be warm together.”

Seeing Carla’s lips approach, Damon started to panic. Reflexively, he pushed her off him and stood up, backing away.

“Get off me- what are- _who_ are you?” Suddenly, Carla’s overlarge smile vanished. Her multicolored eyes flashed dangerously, and she stood up.

“Why do boys have to always make things difficult?” she asked no one in particular. Before Damon could move a muscle, she stepped forwards and kicked Damon hard, sending him crashing to the ground. He hit the floor hard, sending jolts of pain up his spine, and Carla stood over him like a vulture with perfect eyeliner. Her hand was no longer behind her back, and Damon, at last, saw what she had been hiding. It was a syringe, filled with an acid green liquid. "Stay still, now. Relax."

Damon tried to think, but the absurdity of the situation made it hard. Without hesitating, Carla raised the syringe in front of her, pointing it directly at Damon, who’s sluggish brain realized too late what she was about to do. He might have been scared. In fact, he _was_ kind of scared, but in the way that people are scared of things that happen to other people. He could have fought back, he could have scrambled out of her reach, but something in him cracked. Some crucial gear of self-preservation became loose. He was supposed to be past this. He was supposed to have gotten better. He was supposed to be fixed. After visiting the land of the dead in person, he thought he might finally have healed.

But the tired and the empty and the rotten inside him made so easy, _too_ easy to lie there and let himself die.


	4. The Dragon, the Witch and the Crippling Self-Hate

**DAMON**

Damon was saved by an elephant. There might have well been an elephant. At least Damon wasn’t alone in his speechlessness. Carla was rather taken aback when an elephant bowled into her, sending her flying sideways. The elephant then turned around and looked at Damon through large, intelligent eyes. In fact, the intelligence in those eyes was the only thing that stayed the same, because just then the elephant’s body shifted and shrank until what looked like a human teenager stood in its place.

He looked a few years older than Damon and was noticeably taller. His body was muscular and his shoulders broad, barely fitting in his purple hoodie, and he held a large bow at his side.

“Get up.”

“You’re an elephant,” was all Damon could manage.

“Only sometimes,” said the boy. When Damon didn’t move, he grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “You have a weapon?” Damon nodded pulling his dagger out from his back pocket. In his grasp, the blue fabric wrapped around the handle shifted and wound itself over his forearm like a bandage, and the simple knife blade elongated into a sword of Stygian Iron with a rose etched into the metal. The boy nodded appreciatively. “Nice.”

But Damon’s focus was elsewhere. It didn’t take long for Carla to regain her senses, and Damon’s eyes widened at the sight of her nocking an arrow into a bow she had produced from seemingly nowhere. The boy must have seen his expression because he turned just in time to see an arrow fly directly towards his chest. Damon was sure the boy was a goner, but in an instant, he hunched over and grew into a long, scaly dragon, and the arrow glanced harmlessly off his thick hide.

The dragon pounced, and Carla only just managed to dodge, losing her bow to the Dragon’s jaws. She muttered and stepped back, pulling a small bronze dagger from her belt.

“You can’t trust him, Frank,” she said to the dragon-elephant-boy, who was apparently named Frank. “You don’t know who he is. He’ll kill you as soon as I’m out of the way.” It took a moment for Damon to realize Carla was talking about _him_. For some reason, Frank-the-dragon turned to face Damon, his reptilian eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“What? No, I won’t!” It might not have been very convincing, but it was all Damon could think to say.

“Lies!” yelled Carla. Something in her voice made Damon’s brain stir. He felt less safe, more suspicious, and he gripped his sword a little harder. He didn’t like his odds against a boy who could turn into a dragon.

“Snap out of it, Frank!” said another voice. Damon looked and saw that the African-American girl had joined the fray. At her words, the dragon shook his head, its body receding back into the shape of a muscular teenage boy.

“Sorry,” he said, before looking back at Carla.

“You’re outnumbered,” said the girl. “Charmspeak can’t save you now.”

“ _I’m_ outnumbered?” Carla laughed. “Oh, Hazel. You’re slipping.” The girl, Hazel, withdrew a short golden sword, and Damon saw her eyes narrow and glance to the side. He followed her gaze and felt his stomach drop at the sight of the sleazy-looking kids now watching with expressions that were a little too hungry.

“Recognise them?” asked Frank.

“Not yet,” said Hazel, “But they’re surrounded by Mist. Give me a minute.” Carla laughed again, before giving a piercing whistle.

“Here boy,” she said as if calling a dog. Her smile was even wider, but now here eyes were wide and dangerous. Behind her, the greasy teacher shuffled up to her obediently. “Hungry?”

“I’m not a dog,” the teacher growled.

“Oh, but I’d never imply such a thing,” said Carla, her voice sickly sweet. She pointed to Damon, Frank and Hazel. “Now be a good boy and tear them to shreds.” Beside Damon, Hazel caught her breath.

“Of course,” she said as if cursing herself. She nodded towards the kids that now almost surrounded them. Except when Damon looked, they were no longer kids. Their winter coats looked like dead animals, and their teeth were far too long and sharp to be human. “Frank, you have any silver arrows?”

“A few,” said Frank. “Not enough for all of them.”

“What about you?” Hazel turned to Damon. “Any silver?”

“Uh… no,” said Damon. Half of him was sluggish with confusion, while the other half was electrified with panic. “What’s going on?” The teacher growled again.

“You didn’t say there’d be three of them,” he said. He suddenly looked a lot taller, and his hair was matted and torn. He smelled disgusting, though that might have been the dead animal skins he was wearing, and his eyes glowed as red as Carla’s lipstick.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were a coward, Lycaon. Don’t you want to impress me?” Once again, Carla’s voice was sweet. The kind of sweet a carnivorous plant might use to lure an insect to its doom. Lycaon obeyed, springing forwards with a salivary snarl. His nose and mouth elongated in a way that should have been impossible, until he was a snarling dog-like _thing_ galloping towards them. From the side, what looked like a dozen smaller versions of Lycaon did the same thing. They were cornered.

In an instant, Frank nocked a silver arrow and sent it flying into the oncoming wolves, hitting one in the forehead, and it dissolved instantly. In the same motion, Frank became a dragon again, barrelling into the wolves and sending them flying. His large size meant he could occupy the smaller wolves by himself, but Lycaon himself was still approaching. Hazel pointed her sword at him, muttering something under her breath, and a sudden burst of fire arced from the tip of her sword, hitting Lycaon in the chest and knocking him to the ground. Damon expected him to disintegrate, but he looked merely stunned.

“What _are_ they?” Damon asked.

“Lycanthropes,” said Hazel, panting slightly. “Werewolves. They can only be killed by silver.”

“Great,” he said, looking at his only weapon, which was definitely not made of silver. He decided he’d have to rely on swordless combat.

“I’ll take care of Lycaon,” said Hazel. “Go help Frank.” Damon nodded and ran towards the dragon that was now covered in wolves. “And don’t let them bite you,” Hazel called after him. He didn’t need to ask why.

Frank had done a great job of stopping the wolves from getting any closer, but that was about all he could do. Wolves pounced on him from all angles, and he constantly shook them off, biting and scratching and roaring at the beasts. When Damon reached the fray, he looked at the ground, improvising a plan.

With a pull in his gut, Damon felt the Earth respond to his thoughts. The soil and rock beneath the school tarmac began to churn like blood. Straining with the effort, Damon made the Earth erupt, causing large spikes of rock to grow like giant fingers clawing their way out from the Underworld, imprisoning the wolves in a series of makeshift cages. He didn’t get all of them, but most of the wolves were trapped and began chewing at the pillars of rock to escape. Damon was surprised at how easy it was. The pain of the effort made him wince but had been much less intense than he expected. He hadn’t practiced moving Earth since the summer, and it had been much more difficult then.

Seeing what he had done, Frank swung around and flapped his wings, flying the short distance back to Damon’s side before turning back into a human. The wolves that avoided being imprisoned followed, diving towards them with their gums bared. Frank quickly sent a series of silver arrows flying, turning all but one of the free wolves into dust. The one remaining wolf dived, and Damon reflexively raised his sword, swinging it into the wolf’s neck. To Damon’s surprise, the wolf’s head came cleanly off, and its body melted into black dust which his sword sucked up like a vacuum cleaner.

“Wh- I thought only silver…?” said Damon, staring at his sword. Frank looked equally surprised.

“Let’s question it later,” he said. “I’m out of arrows.” Damon looked nervously at the wolves, some of whom had chewed almost completely through their cages. He followed Frank, picking up his arrows from the piles of Lycanthrope dust. Only 10 or so were still usable, as the rest had broken or warped.

“You’re a dragon,” said Damon as Frank returned the arrows to his quiver. He was still not quite over Frank The Dragon-Elephant-Boy.

“Only sometimes,” said Frank again. Just then, there was a cracking sound, and Damon saw the nearest wolves escape from their prison and gallop towards them. Frank fired three of his arrows before becoming a dragon again and knocking the remaining Lycanthropes to the ground. Damon raised his sword. Seeing the wolves’ glistening teeth, he tried not to imagine himself getting bitten, his face and teeth elongating until he was just like them. His sword suddenly looked a lot shorter, and he wished he had something with a little more range.

No sooner had he thought it, the blue cloth around his arm shifted. It lengthened, snaking up to his shoulder and over his back, meanwhile his sword curved and stretched. Before he knew it, he was holding a large black bow, and the blue cloth had slung over his shoulder and turned into a quiver. But, since one of the wolves had dodged past Frank-the-Dragon and was almost upon him, he decided he could ask questions later.

In one motion, he reached back and drew an arrow from his quiver, nocking it into his bow. He had enough time to register that the arrow was tipped with Stygian Iron before he let it fly. Of course, he wasn’t as good as Frank, but the wolf was so close it would have been hard to miss. The arrow his the wolf between the eyes, and it dissolved, sucked into the arrow like smoke down an invisible plughole. Before more could escape from their cages, he fired more arrows. His archery practice at Camp Half-Blood had paid off, and almost all of his arrows managed to hit their targets.

Then, over a dozen wolves broke free all at once. Frank managed to knock about a third of them flying, but the rest kept running towards Damon, gaining speed. There were far too many to shoot. Trying not to panic at the sight of those red eyes, Damon tried something else.

He let a strange, intangible power well up inside him. It wasn’t quite anger, but it was just as powerful. He felt himself become dangerous, and looked at the wolves with the deadliest stare he could manage. It felt like he was shooting arrows of pure power at them. Around him, the shadows began to twist in a wicked sort of dance. The wolves all seemed to freeze mid-leap, a few whimpering and running away, their tails between their legs. Others still approached, but slowly. The fear in their red eyes was almost palpable, and Damon capitalized on it, letting his body become fiercer and scarier. Soon, most of the wolves stood at a stalemate. Most of them didn’t flee, but none was brave enough to come any closer. Then, behind them, Frank turned back into a human. He shot the rest of his arrows, disintegrating the wolves one by one. When he ran out, he used one his warped arrows to stab the rest by hand. Frozen in fear, none of the wolves noticed until it was too late.

“I guess you aren’t a son of Ceres,” said Frank, approaching him.

“No,” said Damon, surprised. “Why would you think-”

“Duck!” yelled Frank. Damon obeyed, and Frank stabbed the approaching wolf with his warped arrow over Damon’s head. As he stood up, Damon was showered in wolf dust. Gross.

Five wolves remained in the final cage, still gnawing their way out. Seeing the last of their comrades fall, one wolf threw its body at the weakened stone pillar, causing it to crumble away, and the wolves spilled out, facing Damon and Frank in a standoff. Both sides stood still and silent, except for the wolves’ low, guttural growling. Damon knew as soon as he drew an arrow, the wolves would pounce. He couldn’t hit all of them in time. Frank was the better archer, but he was out of arrows. Damon contemplated giving Frank some of his arrows, but the wolves would be on top of them before Frank could fire.

He didn’t like it, but Damon decided to go for the last resort. Summoning his energy into a single point in his stomach, he focused on the ground at the wolves’ feet. At once, thick stems sprouted from the ground, shackling the wolves in place before blooming into what Damon somehow recognized as carnations. The wolves instantly began clawing at the flowers, trying to break free, but Damon sent another round of plants, ensnaring the wolves’ bodies and jaws in a net of sunflowers and bluebells. The effort felt like a vicious punch to the gut, but he didn’t slow down. There was a rumbling sound, and the ground beneath the wolves started to shake and crack, creating a small chasm beneath each Lycanthrope. All of a sudden, the wolves stopped growling. They whimpered in fear, like guilty dogs, as if begging for mercy. That made it a lot harder.

But Damon couldn’t afford to stop. With a final, painful effort, Damon concentrated on pulling the wolves below the Earth, the flowers and vines responding to his thoughts and dragging the whimpering wolves into the cracks in the ground, which sucked shut behind them with a crunch, leaving behind no evidence except five small black scars in the tarmac and their terrified whining echoing in Damon’s head.

Breathing heavily, Damon stumbled back, slightly sick from the pain. He tripped slightly, and Frank caught him before he hit the ground, setting him back on his feet before catching his eye. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then there was a loud _crash_ from behind them, and they both turned to look.

Hazel was still battling Lycaon. She was sending blasts of multicolored fire his way, and every time Lycaon pounced Hazel seemed to pop up somewhere else, out of his reach. Damon nocked an arrow, but Lycaon was much more agile than the other wolves, and Damon couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t hit Hazel. He expected Carla to press the advantage while Hazel was distracted, but it looked like she had long since disappeared.

As he watched, Lycaon dived forward into a brick wall that had appeared from nowhere, and which disappeared a moment later. Lycaon stumbled, dazed and unstable. Then, instead of attacking, Hazel knelt and placed one hand on the ground beside her, closing her eyes as if concentrating hard. As Damon watched, Lycaon slowly regained his senses. He locked eyes on Hazel and began running towards her, gaining speed. Damon called out to warn Hazel, but she didn’t seem to hear. Lycaon was getting closer and closer, and, in desperation, Damon raised his bow.

But he never needed to fire. As Lycaon pounced upon Hazel, there was a guttural rumbling. The Earth trembled slightly, and from beneath Lycaon erupted a giant spike of silver, impaling him square through the stomach. Lycaon froze, suspended mid-leap, before crumbling into dust. The spike of silver then sunk back into the Earth as if it had never existed.

“What the, like, actual fuck,” said Damon, breathless as Hazel and Frank joined him. “I- what- _how??_ ” Damon had seen centaurs, horned snakes, old women with bat wings and more. But he’d never seen anyone fight like that. “You’re, what, a shapeshifter?” He expected this to be hyperbole, for Frank to shake his head and offer a more reasonable explanation. That was not what happened.

“Yup,” he said simply. He was smiling a little sheepishly.

“You can be an elephant… and a _dragon?!_ ”

“And a bumblebee,” said Frank. Damon stared, his mouth open.

“That was… you?”

“Yeah. That’s why I thought you were a son of Ceres, the way you made those plants grow.” Frank looked at him curiously. “Actually, who _is_ your godly parent? That was kind of impressive.”

“Uh, Persephone,” said Damon shyly. He blushed, half embarrassed, half disgusted by himself.

“Ouch,” he said seriously. “Pluto can’t be too happy about that. Hazel, did your dad mention anything about…?”

“Nope,” said Hazel, shaking her head.

“We had a few family issues,” said Damon, shrugging. “But we worked them out.” Of course, it had been a _bit_ more complicated than that, but that was the gist of it. Then, Damon’s mind caught on something. “Wait… you said Pluto- Ceres- you guys are Roman demigods?” Hazel nodded.

“Hazel Levesque,” she said. “Daughter of Pluto. And this is my boyfriend, Frank.”

“Son of Mars,” said Frank. Damon had expected it, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling a hit of embarrassed melancholy when Hazel said that Frank was her boyfriend. Then, of course, he felt cripplingly ashamed that he would let himself feel anything of the sort.

“Damon Courtes,” said Damon, looking at the ground. His quiver shifted on his back slightly, which reminded him it was there. He willed his weapon to recede, and it obeyed, the bow shrinking and the quiver collapsing into a blue bandage that snaked back over his shoulder and wrapped itself around the handle of his knife, which he slipped into his back pocket. Hazel and Frank put their weapons away as well, Hazel sheathing her sword and Frank slipping his bow over his shoulder, where it became an ordinary-looking backpack.

“Oh, Hazel,” said Frank, remembering. “Did you know Stygian Iron can harm Lycanthropes?”

“Huh. I guess that’s not too surprising. Stygian Iron is different to the other metals; it absorbs a monster’s essence directly. It’s probably pretty hard to be immune to having your essence absorbed.” Damon touched the handle of his knife, which was poking out of his back pocket, wondering nervously what it meant to have a monster’s essence inside it.

“We should go,” said Hazel to Frank. “We’ve lost enough time already”. She zipped up her hoodie against the cold and turned to Damon. “We need to get to Camp Half-Blood. You should probably come with us.” Her face had turned serious, and she exchanged a meaningful glance with Frank. Damon felt his stomach drop. Judging by their expressions, whatever reason they had for going to Camp, it couldn’t be good.

“What’s happened?”


	5. Damsel in Distress

**JASMINE**

Apparently, cyclopes took wearing your seatbelt _extremely_ seriously.

They were a dynamic duo with two eyes total. The driver, who was apparently named Shoe, couldn’t manage a sentence much longer than two words, but it was the one riding shotgun, Gump, who was frightening. He was almost as large and muscular as Shoe and was much cleverer. When Yunise tried to take off her bracelet, he snapped his fingers, causing the seatbelts to move with a mechanical whir, binding her to the back of the car with a gag in her mouth. Jasmine fared only a little better. Seatbelt straps tangled themselves in her wheels and bound her arms and legs, and she had a gag just like Yunise. It tasted disgusting.“Can I say it?” asked Shoe with a giggle of excitement.

“Does it matter if I say no?” asked Gump. In the rearview mirror, Jasmine saw him roll his eye.

“Buckle up!” Shoe cackled, laughing maniacally to himself as if he’d made the funniest joke in the world. Gump sighed to himself as if he’d heard the same joke a hundred times before, which he probably had.

Jasmine’s brain whirred at a hundred miles a minute. Yunise was out of commission; she was wrapped so tightly she looked like a mummy, and Jasmine didn’t want to imagine how much pain that must be causing her broken ribs. The cyclopes seemed to know Yunise was a half-god, so that meant that they probably knew Jasmine was human. Therefore, Jasmine reasoned, they would probably underestimate her. That was her main advantage. It was also her only advantage, but she would take what she could get.

The first option was to overpower the cyclopes while in the car, but seeing as she and Yunise were pretty comprehensively incapacitated, Jasmine decided that might not go too well. The second option was to wait until they reached their destination and work from there. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best Jasmine could do. As long as the cyclopes didn’t consider her a credible threat, she had the element of surprise. She was used to being underestimated.

Eventually, the car pulled up in the driveway of a huge, dilapidated warehouse that had long since been used. Most of it was still standing, but it was covered in graffiti, and the windows were all boarded up, with what little glass remained resembling jagged broken teeth. The engine stopped, and the cyclopes exited the car.

“Stew?” asked Shoe, as they opened the back doors.

“Again?” said Gump, sounding irritated. He clapped his hands, and there was a mechanical thud. The seatbelt straps receded, except for the ones around Jasmine and Yunise’s wrists. “We _always_ have stew. Can’t we have something different?” He grabbed Jasmine, pulling her out of her chair and holding her in one arm. She tried to wriggle her hands free, but Gump suddenly crushed her chest, squeezing all the air out of her lungs. “Be good,” he warned. “Or I’ll have to break a few ribs.” Jasmine nodded, gasping for air.

“But stew is tasty,” Shoe pouted, completely ignoring Jasmine. He picked up Yunise, who yelled in pain. “I’m good at stew.”

“Well, maybe if you’d let _me_ cook-”

“No!” Shoe yelled, looking worried. “I- I can cook. I’ll be good. I’ll make, uh… roast! Roast is good. Like stew but dry.”

“Whatever.” The pair continued bickering as they carried Jasmine and Yunise into the warehouse. Jasmine stayed silent, looking for a way to escape but coming up empty. Yunise didn’t speak, instead letting out the occasional yelp of pain- probably because Shoe was being none too gentle with her half-broken bones.

Inside was a lived-in mess. A pile of timber in the corner and a circle of soot on the floor suggested a bonfire. There was a myriad of little metal gears, trinkets and switches, as well as more modern items like a welding torch all humped together like a makeshift workshop. Scrap metal lay in a pile on one wall, next to a door that probably led into the main bulk of the warehouse. There was also an assortment of furniture: a decaying couch, a box TV, two giant mattresses and more were arranged to give the idea of separate rooms, only without walls in between. The air smelled of a mix between soot and sweat, hitting Jasmine’s nose like a punch.

“Here,” said Gump. He handed Jasmine over to Shoe like a rag doll. She felt their dirty hands against her skin like sandpaper. “Lock them up with the other one. I’ll get the fire going.”

Shoe grunted and headed towards the door next to the scrap metal. Inside was, unsurprisingly, a giant empty warehouse. What was surprising, however, was a small room-sized cage of rough metal bars that looked like it had been made by hand. A figure was huddled beneath a brown blanket in the far corner, shivering slightly. Jasmine wondered how the cyclopes could have built something like this without industrial machinery, but her question was answered when he dropped Yunise on the floor, looking like she might throw up from the pain, and one-handedly bent the bars open as easily as if they were made of play-dough. He tossed Jasmine through the gap, followed by Yunise, and bent the bars back into place.

“No escaping,” he said wisely, tapping his nose before strolling away, humming a tone-deaf tune and closing the door behind him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jasmine muttered under her breath, before dragging herself on her elbows towards Yunise. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, and she was shivering, despite the room not being particularly cold. Jasmine’s first aid was limited, given that her hands were tied together, but she figured that Yunise’s ribs had been rebroken, plus a few extra. Her bracelet- their only real weapon- was gone, too. “Hey,” Jasmine called to the blanketed figure in the corner. “She’s injured. She needs your blanket.” The figure shifted strangely. It sat up, the furry brown blanket falling to the floor, only it looked more like two blankets, one wrapped around each leg.

“What blanket?” The boy looked about 16, with acne, patches of dark fuzz on his chin, and rugged, tangled brown hair. He looked weak and hungry, but he still managed to sound bitter.

“The blanket around your…” Jasmine began, but as the looked closer, she trailed off, trying to compute what she was seeing. “...legs.” The boy gave an indignant bleat, like a sheep that had just been insulted.

“They’re my _legs_ , human.”

“You’re, uh…”

“I’m a _satyr_.” He tried to sound confident, but his furtive glances gave him away. He chewed at his lip, making it bleed slightly.

“Satyr,” said Jasmine, slowly. “So you’re, um, half… goat?”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Now that Jasmine was over the initial surprise, she decided that a goat-teenager wasn’t the strangest thing she’d ever seen. “Do you have anything to help her? Bandages? Ice?”

“Oh, sure. The cyclopes are gonna eat us, but they’ve left us some first aid supplies in the meantime.”

“Never mind,” said Jasmine irritably, before turning back to Yunise. There was no bleeding- that was a plus- but Yunise’s short, rapid breaths suggested she was going into shock. As gently as she could, Jasmine shifted Yunise onto her side, keeping her head close to the ground. It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could do given the circumstances.

“What about that magic drink?” asked Jasmine, running through every option. “The healing one.”

“What? Nectar? That’ll only work if she’s a demigod.”

“She’s a half-god, if that’s what you mean.”

“ _Demigod_ ,” the satyr corrected. “Or half-blood.” He sniffed the air as if trying to tell if Yunise smelled like a demigod or not.

“Fine,” said Jasmine, trying not to get too irritated. “What happens if a human drinks nectar?”

“Spontaneous combustion.”

“Oh.” Inwardly, Jasmine remembered tasting the liquid. It had burned her lips, and she’d spat it out instantly. Suddenly, she was very thankful that she hadn’t swallowed. Not only that- when she’d given it to Yunise, she’d been completely guessing. If Yunise hadn’t been a demigod…

“And no, I don’t have any.”

“You could at least try to be helpful,” snapped Jasmine. The satyr’s sardonic attitude, even in this dire situation, was really starting to get on her nerves.

“What for? You can’t escape. Gump’s too good. I’ve never even heard of a cyclops as clever as he is.”

“Then it’s lucky for you I’m even cleverer.” Using her elbows, Jasmine pulled herself to the edge of the cage and sat up, her back against the bars. Then, she plunged her tied hands down the front of her shirt, bending them at an awkward angle.

“What are you doing?” asked the satyr, trying to sound disinterested, though obviously curious. Her hand grabbed something small and metal.

“Aha!” She pulled it out of her bra and held it up.

“Is that…?”

“A Swiss army knife,” said Jasmine, not looking at the satyr. She unfolded the knife, placed it between her thighs, and began to rub her seatbelt handcuffs over the blade. It was slow work, but she could see the edges of the strap starting to fray.

“Do you just always walk around with a Swiss army knife in your bra?”

“Mmhmm. A girl’s gotta watch out for herself. You wouldn’t believe the things you can keep in a bra…”

“Whatever,” said the satyr. Jasmine could tell he was trying not to sound impressed, attempting to preserve his cynicism. She allowed herself a small smirk.

“I’m Jasmine,” she said, not looking up from her work. She was about halfway through the strap; she would have been faster, but the knife kept slipping from between her thighs. “That’s Yunise.” There was a brief pause, in which the satyr seemed to decide whether or not to speak.

“Oliver,” he said eventually. He hadn’t moved from his spot in the corner of the cage but was eyeing Jasmine with cautious skepticism. Jasmine stopped smiling. It occurred to her that he’d been locked in here, alone, for who knew how long. He must be terrified of getting his hopes up, no matter how hard he tried to hide it with cynical comments and a sarcastic air.

“Well, Oliver,” said Jasmine, holding up her free hands in triumph as her handcuff fell to the floor. “How would you like to not be eaten today?”


	6. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

**JASMINE**

As it turns out, daring escape plans are actually kind of hard to think up. There was no window to break, no lock to pick, and no chance of physically overpowering their jailers. Especially since only one of their party could actually walk. Their only advantage was Jasmine’s knife and the fact that their jailers didn’t know they had it.

“You can’t kill them with that,” said Oliver, nodding at the knife. He was very quick to point out flaws in Jasmine’s plan, which was irritating, albeit kind of useful. “Not with ordinary steel.”

“I don’t need to kill them with it. I just need to do some damage. Will that work?”

“Probably. But celestial bronze would be better. You don’t happen to carry around any celestial bronze weapons in your bra, do you?”

“Celestial bronze…?” said Jasmine slowly, remembering the bronze blade of the sword-bracelet the cyclopes had confiscated. “We have a magic bronze sword. At least, we did. Will it work on them?”

“Sure. It’s only mortals it can’t hurt.”

“Oh.” She supposed that explained why the sword had passed right through her, though the way Oliver said ‘mortals’ made her feel a bit inadequate.

In the hour they spent planning, Yunise managed to regain consciousness. Her rapid breaths became slow and deliberate and slightly strained. That was probably better than her being in shock, but Jasmine couldn’t be sure. She only hoped they could her some nectar soon.

“If worst comes to worst…” Jasmine trailed off. She wondered if she should say it. But neither she or Yunise could walk. Oliver was their only chance. They had to trust him. “If it looks like we’re goners, don’t wait for us. Get yourself to safety.” Oliver looked stunned. He stared at Jasmine, not apparently sure if she was serious. Jasmine wasn’t entirely sure either.

“Are you-” Oliver began, but he was cut off by the sound of the door opening behind them.

“ _Quick!_ ” Jasmine whispered. Oliver and Jasmine hurried to their handcuffs, lying limp on the floor of the cage. They each wrapped them around their wrists, trying to seem as tied up as possible so that the cyclopes wouldn’t suspect anything. It wasn’t easy, and the strap draped loosely over her wrists, so Jasmine kept her hands close to her chest, trying not to draw attention to it, or the knife hidden in her clenched fist. As the door opened, Jasmine was hit with a wall of heat and the acrid smell of smoke.

“Fire’s ready,” said Shoe happily, beaming at them. Jasmine was inwardly thankful that it was Shoe, not Gump, who had entered. Gump would’ve been a lot harder to fool. “Who’s first?”

“Me,” said Jasmine, trying not to sound too eager. Shoe looked surprised at her enthusiasm, but pleasantly so. He bent the bars and beckoned Jasmine towards him.

“Come here.”

“Oh, I- I can’t walk.”

“Can’t walk?” said Shoe, apparently confused. “Use legs.” Despite the imminent danger they were in, Jasmine had to fight not to roll her eyes. This was not the first time she’s heard ‘use your legs’ and it never got any less tiring. Although, admittedly, it was the first time she'd heard it from a cyclops.

“Legs don’t work.” She spoke as simply as possible so that Shoe would understand. “Remember my wheelchair?”

“Legs don’t work?” Shoe repeated. Then he shrugged. “Humans break too easily.” He bent the bars further apart, widening the gap enough so that he could fit through, and stepped into the cage. Once inside, he strode over to Jasmine and picked her up in one hand.

At once, she unclenched her fist, raised her knife, and drove it directly into the cyclops’s eye. He roared in pain, dropping Jasmine to the floor and clawing at his eye, trying to remove the blade. Jasmine started dragging herself on her elbows towards the gap in the bars. Behind her, she heard a metallic clink as Shoe pulled out the knife and flung it to the floor.

“BAD FOOD,” he yelled, starting to careen blindly around the cage. “ROAST YOU SLOWLY. MORE PAINFUL.” Oliver started bleating wildly and running around the cage, leading Shoe away from Yunise so that he didn’t crush her. Yunise reached the bars and, panting and shaking with the effort, pulled herself through them. She reached up, pulled the door open, and crawled into the room now baked with heat from a giant bonfire that was roaring in the place where the soot circle had been. She managed a few more heaves forward before she found her path blocked by a giant pair of thick, muscly legs.

“I said be good,” said Gump with a slow, dangerous growl. “It looks like I’ll have to break more than just your ribs.” He bent down and grabbed Jasmine by the scruff of her neck, strangling her as he brought her to eye level. “What did you do to my brother?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Jasmine choked. “He just might need some eye drops. Maybe some glasses. Or probably a monocle would work better-

“SHUT IT!” Gump’s warm, disgusting breath washed over Jasmine’s face like sewage. He turned, carrying the gagging Jasmine towards the fire. “I’ll enjoy seeing you die.”

“Your brother probably won’t,” said Jasmine. It was perhaps unwise to keep provoking him, but she needed to keep his attention. Over his shoulder, she could just about see Oliver creeping silently through the inner door towards the exit. Enraged, Gump took his free hand and crushed Jasmine’s chest. She heard a few of her bones crack but was too hopped up on adrenaline to feel any pain.

“Are you _trying_ to make me angry?” Grump released the pressure on Jasmine’s chest and she gasped for air. She saw Oliver make it to the exit and slip outside. There was a loud crash, like breaking glass, and Gump looked up, alert.

“You’re just too easy to provoke!” cried Jasmine, determined to keep Gump focused on her. “I mean, look at your brother! He’s running around in a blind rage!” Gump narrowed his eye. He would have been less scary if he started roaring in fury like his brother. His cold, calculating wrath was unsettling. He raised his free hand again, but this time he closed it around Jasmine’s neck.

“The more you talk, the more painful your death will be, human.” He tightened his grip, cutting off Jasmine’s air supply even further.

“I’m just saying,” said Jasmine between gasps for air, “anger management issues. I know this great therapist who-” She stopped. Behind Gump, she had seen something that turned her blood cold. On top of a table, next to a pile of scrap metal, was the sword-bracelet. Oliver was looking in the car for a sword that wasn’t there. Jasmine just assumed the cyclopes had left it in the car. How could she have been so _stupid_? Of course, that wouldn’t even matter if Oliver had already bolted, leaving Jasmine and Yunise behind to die. Jasmine practically told him to do it, and he’d have no reason to stick around after he figured out their only weapon wasn’t there. She tried not to feel hopeless, but when in the strangling grasp of a giant, cunning, one-eyed people-eater with halitosis, optimism can be somewhat tricky to summon.

“I’ve got this one!” yelled another voice, and Shoe came stumbling in through the inner door, holding a twitching Yunise in his meaty hands. Jasmine’s stomach sank. Leaving Yunise alone in the cage with the blind, rampaging Shoe had been the most dangerous part of the plan. She must have been unable to escape in time, slowed down by her injured chest and legs. Both Jasmine and Yunise were now in the clutches of two very pissed off cyclopes, and Oliver was nowhere to be seen.

 _At least we got him out safe_ , Jasmine thought, though that didn’t stop the pain in her torso from welling up like venom.

“What do you say we cook them alive, Shoe?” asked Gump wickedly. Shoe roared his approval and approached the fire, feeling his way towards the heat source and knocking over the couch on his way. Gump stepped closer, too, and Jasmine suddenly felt the heat sear her back, though neither of the cyclopes seemed bothered by it. Gump raised Jasmine into the air, and she closed her eyes, trying not to think about how much this was going to hurt.

Then, Gump stopped. At the edges of her hearing, Jasmine picked up on a distinctly peculiar sound, not unlike a guitar falling down the stairs. Out of curiosity, she opened her eyes and saw Gump staring in confusion at the exit, where the music was coming from. It was getting louder, and Jasmine strained her ears to pick it up. Was that…?

Jasmine found it hard to believe, but it was unmistakably ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’ being played on some kind of string instrument. A lyre, perhaps, or a… harp.

With a bang, Oliver kicked the door open and ran into the room, holding the small metal harp that Jasmine had stolen from the police station. He was strumming it vigorously, almost tearing off the strings, and he didn’t seem to be relying on the harp’s magic to produce the tune. Gump dropped Jasmine to the floor and made a grab for him, but Oliver kicked over the table piled with metal scraps, causing Gump to trip on the mess of metal trinkets spilling onto the floor.

“What’s happening?” Shoe yelled, looking this way and that. Oliver played louder, dodging another blow from Gump. Suddenly, the ground started to tremble, the walls and ceiling of the warehouse creaking ominously. From under Gump and Shoe’s feet sprouted a thicket of brambles, which all wiggled and danced along to the sound of ABBA. The cyclopes kicked at the plants, trying to disentangle themselves, but the dancing brambles grew like crazy, managing to hold them in place. More plants sprouted, turning the floor into a minefield of thorns.

But Oliver looked exhausted. Whatever magic he was pulling seemed to be taking a huge amount of effort and it didn’t look like he could keep it up for much longer. In desperation, Jasmine started looking through the mess of metal scraps and trinkets that Oliver had kicked over. In front of her, she saw the bracelet rolling towards the fire and, her chest screaming in pain, she dragged herself towards it. Behind her, she heard a terrified bleating and a metallic crash. The music stopped, and the brambles fell still. Grabbing the bracelet, she turned herself around and wondered if it was even possible for a mortal to turn it into a sword. Thankfully, the bracelet seemed to respond to the image of the sword in her head, or maybe it just sensed that Jasmine really, _really_ needed a weapon right about now.

Then she froze. Gump was holding Oliver, one hand over his mouth to stop him from bleating. Beside him, Shoe still held Yunise in his arms, one hand around her already twice-broken ribs. The message was clear: drop it or we crush them. They were at a standstill, the crackling fire singing the back of Jasmine’s neck. The sword in her hand seemed to wilt as her mind tried to think of a way out and came up empty.

Then, something caught her eye. Oliver’s eyes were twitching, catching Jasmine’s eye and then glancing up. Trying not to be too obvious, Jasmine followed his gaze and fought to contain her surprise. Oliver’s brambles had not only covered the floor but had snaked up the walls and fastened a thick net around the beams and supports of the ceiling. A ridiculous, stupidly dangerous idea took shape in Jasmine’s head. It was a desperate plan, but it was also a desperate situation. Praying to whatever gods may or may not exist, Jasmine drew the sword and swung it behind her, destabilizing the massive pile of burning logs. Since she’d hit the side of the pile, most of the logs missed her as they fell, though one fell on her ankle and caused it to erupt in pain.

As soon as the burning logs hit the carpet of dry brambles on the floor, the fire spread like, well, like wildfire. The heat became oppressive, and Jasmine dragged herself towards a patch of bramble-free floor to avoid being flambéd. The thorns scratched mercilessly at her arms, and she cut them away with her sword, clenching her teeth through the pain. For some reason, Gump started to laugh.

“You think you can burn us, mortal? We are cyclopes. We bathe in fire.” The air started to shimmer, sweat drenching Jasmine’s forehead. Fire fringed the room like a picture frame, climbing up the walls, and the smell of burning hair alerted her to the fire nearby. She pulled her smoldering hair away from the heat and looked at the cyclopes. Gump wasn’t bluffing. Though the thickets tangling their legs had become intense balls of fire, neither Gump nor Shoe looked remotely phased. Oliver and Yunise, however, were being slowly roasted by the heat.

Gump laughed again and kicked away the disintegrating brambles that were crumbling to ash around his legs. Jasmine's ankle and chest were still screaming in pain, and as the fire climbed higher and higher up the walls, the heat only got harder to bear. Soon, the flames spread to the roof, and the entire building started creaking ominously. The smoke was starting to bite at her eyes and lungs, making it hard to breathe. The sword was still in her hand, and she pointed it at Gump.

“Don’t come any closer!” she yelled over the inferno. Gump raised his eyebrow.

“Or what?” He dangled Oliver in front of him as an example, threatening to strangle him. Jasmine was stuck. Even if she knew how to fight with a sword, they would kill Oliver and Yunise before she landed a single blow. Choking on the fumes, Jasmine retched and dropped the weapon, and Gump seized his chance. He strode forwards and reached out a hand, ready to grab Jasmine by the neck.

It all happened so fast Jasmine couldn’t begin to keep up. She heard Yunise yell, felt a blast of energy wash over her, and through her smoke-stung eyes, she saw Gump fall sideways, shouting in surprise, into what remained of the bonfire. Flaming logs flew around the room like panicked birds. A spent block of charcoal hit Jasmine on the top of her head, causing her vision to sway. Shoe yelled, frantically trying to search for Gump though his bleeding eye. He started running around the room, shouting for his brother, though Jasmine’s head hurt too much to understand what he was saying. Yunise dangled limply in his arms, and Jasmine prayed that she was only unconscious.

Then the first timber beam fell. The fire had weakened the building, and the wave of energy that pushed Gump off his feet had been the final straw. The roof was collapsing, sending more smoke and sweltering heat around the room in waves. Another timber beam fell right next to Jasmine, and she scrambled away from it. The building groaned, the walls seeming to tremble, and Gump made the mistake of leaning against them, trying to regain his balance. His weight caused the wall to collapse, burying him under a giant pile of burning wood and hot, glowing metal. There was a panicked bleating, and Jasmine caught her breath in relief when she saw Oliver had not been buried with him. His hooves clacking against the floor, he ran towards Jasmine, brandishing his harp. Jasmine picked up the sword beside her and tossed it to him. He caught it by blade, cussing and wiping his bleeding hands on his furry legs before grabbing the handle and charging towards Shoe.

Blind to his attacker, Shoe swung his fists wildly, whipping Yunise’s limp form this way and that in ways that couldn’t be good. Trying not to black out from smoke inhalation, Jasmine watched Oliver hack at Shoe’s legs, narrowly avoiding hitting Yunise. Shoe buckled, falling to his knees and dropping Yunise on the floor beside him. Oliver thrust the sword into Shoe’s chest. Instead of yelling in pain, he looking mostly surprised, opening his mouth as if to say something before disintegrating into a shimmering powder.

Oliver stooped down, letting the sword become a bracelet again and slipping it onto his wrist. He grabbed Yunise, hoisted her into a fireman’s lift and stumbled to his feet (or rather, to his hooves). Then, he pointed over Jasmine’s head, yelling something incomprehensible over the deafening fire. Jasmine followed his gaze and saw that the collapsed wall that had buried Gump was now their only escape route, the door having been blocked by a fallen timber beam. Jasmine started pulling herself towards it on her elbows. Most of the floor was still blazing, but some of the brambles had been burnt up, leaving a path of glowing embers and gray ash for her to crawl through. It practically fried the skin on forearms. Oliver caught up with her, wobbling precariously under Yunise’s weight, and together, coughing blindly from the fumes, they edged past the pile of timber and metal that had buried Gump and made it outside. The air wasn’t exactly fresh but compared to the toxic amount of smoke inside the warehouse it felt like the breath of life. Jasmine wanted to collapse onto the ground, but for some reason, Oliver kept moving.

“We need to get to the car,” he yelled over his shoulder. Jasmine couldn’t understand why. They’d made it out of the burning building- what else was there to worry about?

“Why?” she called back. To answer, Oliver just turned and pointed at something behind Jasmine. She turned and felt her stomach lurch at the sight of the giant pile of fire that was now shaking slightly. She could even hear quiet grunts from inside.

“Cyclopes are immune to fire,” Oliver yelled. “Gump’s still alive under there. We can’t outrun him.” Jasmine nodded in understanding. Casting a nervous glance at the trembling pile, Jasmine scrambled as fast as her raw arms would allow. Reaching the car, Oliver smashed a back window with a good kick from his hoof, opened the door, and slid Yunise inside. Then, he ran back to help Jasmine.

Leaning heavily on him, Jasmine felt herself half-dragged to the car. Once again, Oliver put his hoof through a window and opened the door. He dropped Jasmine inside before sliding over the hood and sitting the other side.

“Thanks for coming back for us,” Jasmine wheezed.

“Yeah, I didn’t do it for you,” said Oliver, breathing with even more difficulty than Jasmine. “I needed a driver- I never learned how.” Between violent coughs, Jasmine suddenly realized she was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“You idiot!” she choked. “I can’t drive! My legs don’t work!” Oliver’s eyes suddenly widened. Jasmine expected some kind of sarcastic retort, but a sudden, deafening crash made her jump out of her skin.

Gump was standing in front of the burning warehouse. He was obviously dazed, but looked no less dangerous. Smoke curled into the sky as another wall crumbled and fell, and Gump kicked at the remaining pile of burning timber around his feet before striding towards the car with murder in his eye.

“You drive!” Jasmine yelled. Gump’s huge legs meant he was quickly closing the distance between him and the car. He grabbed a nearby wood beam and brandished it like a giant club. Oliver bleated in panicked indignation.

“ _Blaa-ha!_ I just told you I don’t know how!”

“Well, neither do I!” Gump was almost upon them. He raised his club above his head, ready to strike. “Look, get your hooves over here. Slam the pedal.”

“Which one?”

“NO IDEA!” Oliver thwacked his hoof onto the nearest pedal. Nothing happened. With an almighty crash, Gump brought his club down onto the roof of the car. It caved inwards, causing a massive dent, but the car hadn’t fallen apart. Yet. Gump grunted, straining to raise the club for another blow. “THE OTHER PEDAL” Jasmine screamed. Oliver hammed down the other pedal, and the car made a very unhealthy noise.

“THE BRAKE’S ON!” Oliver yelled. Jasmine had no idea what she was doing, but she started to fiddle with all the knobs and buttons available to her. Just as Gump brought the club down for a second attack, Jasmine managed to hit something. She fiddled with a large handle between the front seats, and the car shot off, slamming Jasmine’s head into her seat with more force than a rollercoaster. Gump’s club clipped the end of the trunk, tipping the car into a momentary wheelie before it hit the ground again and sped up, leaving the cyclops roaring in fury, running after them and swinging his club wildly.

“FASTER!”

“I’M TRYING.” Jasmine glanced behind. It was difficult to see past the enormous dent, but she could make out Gump slow down. He was doing something with his arms. Jasmine squinted, trying to figure out what he was doing, and felt her eyes widen when she realized. She turned back to the front. Oliver was sat almost sideways, his left hoof still stuck fast on the gas pedal. He was staring out through the windscreen with a complete deer-in-the-headlights expression his face. Then Jasmine realized that no-one was steering.

“HE’S THROWING HIS CLUB!”

“WHAT?” Jasmine didn’t have time to explain. She grabbed the wheel and turned it hard, weaving back and forth, throwing the car’s passengers from side to side, in an attempt to make them a more difficult target. Jasmine was slammed into Oliver, then into the car door, but she refused to let go of the steering wheel.

Oliver started screaming. So did Jasmine.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might be a little while. College is getting stressful again, and I've hit a small writing block. I'll get back to this asap though! I'm having so much fun with this story.


	7. Something that Hurts

**FRANK**

Frank liked Nico, but he wasn’t quite sure how to manage two of him. Of course, Damon was a different person, but everything about him reminded Frank of Nico. The quiet demeanor, the pale skin, the morbid powers and the strange tendency to move in silence and make Frank jump out of his skin when he spoke… Though Nico had changed since the war with Gaia. Frank often looked forward to his periodic visits to Camp Jupiter. He was much less cold and private than he had been, and a smile didn’t look quite so out of place on his face.

Damon, however, was almost more quiet than the old Nico, and he looked twice as odd. Strange red marks ran from his eyes to his chin. They looked too thick and vivid to be scars, but Frank wasn’t sure what else they could be. He decided not to ask him about it. As a dragon, Frank carried him and Hazel on his back towards Camp Half-Blood, and Damon spent almost the entire time in complete silence, only asking the occasional question as Hazel explained.

“About a month back, we lost all communication with Camp Half-Blood. Total radio silence. Then, a week ago, we received a message. A distress call, sort of. The message was damaged, so we’re not sure exactly what’s wrong, but we know something’s bad has happened.”

“What kind of message? IM?”

“No, it was a giant eagle message. Which is weird, cause the Greeks do normally use Iris messaging.” Frank tuned out. Below him, he thought he saw the border between New Jersey and New York, though he was too high up to be sure. He remembered the giant eagle, battered and bruised, carrying a letter that was badly torn. Someone didn’t want Camp Half-Blood to get help.

He flapped his wings, feeling the cold air over his scales, and breathed deeply. Shapeshifting never got old. After a few minutes, his keen dragon eyes spotted Long Island, marked by the giant Athena Parthenos, and he began a gradual descent. Soon he was brushing the tops of Manhattan skyscrapers, seeing the amazed mortals below look up and gawk at what they probably thought was a huge bird of prey. 

“What about Carla?” Damon asked. Frank flapped his wings in momentary agitation.

“Another demigod,” said Hazel. “We saw her on our way here and decided to follow her. Only…” Hazel didn’t finish, but Frank knew what she was going to say. Only Carla had been too easy to find and too easy to follow. She knew their names. It was almost as if she wanted them to find her and, now that Frank thought about it, to find Damon, too. 

And she was dangerous. Her charmspeak was almost as good as Piper’s. Frank guessed she was a daughter of Venus or Aphrodite, but that didn’t settle his nerves. In his experience, every god had a style of fighting, and so did their children. Mars’s and Ares’s children were head-on; Athena’s were more calculating; Vulcan’s came in prepared; Apollo’s fought with bow and arrow; Ceres’s worked with swords. But children of Venus were subtle. They were unpredictable. Love didn’t win wars, it caused them.

When they were no longer over the city, Frank began to descend faster, brushing the tops of the trees with his claws. He decided to land outside Camp and walk in, as a dragon landing in the middle of the dining pavilion might raise some alarm. But then Frank took another glance at Camp Half-Blood and he suddenly saw why they had sent a distress call.

The Camp itself looked much the same. Swords still clanged in the combat arena, satyrs still chased dryads around the edge of the woods, campers still picked strawberries from the strawberry fields. It was the surrounding land that was different. A single river, wide and glittering in the cold December sun, ran around the edge of the Camp like a second border. It seemed to flow like a ribbon from the eastern hills, all the way around the strawberry fields before disappearing into the western forest. Ordinarily, a river appearing out of nowhere would be worrying enough on its own. But this river wasn’t ordinary. Its water was blacker than pitch. Even the foam from its rapids was black. Just the sight of it made Frank’s stomach sink.

Wanting to discuss this new development with Hazel, he landed among the trees a short distance from Farm Road. Once Hazel and Damon had slid off his back, he turned back into a human and faced them. Something in the air smelled vaguely off, though he couldn’t quite place it.

“What is that?” he asked, looking at Hazel.

“No idea,” she said. Frank had been afraid of that. 

“I can fly you over.” Frank glanced through the trees, towards the sound of the river. “I don’t think we should touch the water if we can help it.” Damon said nothing. He nodded slowly, his mind seemingly far away from reality. Frank wondered what he was thinking, but found him stunningly hard to read. His eyes were dull, as if they’d left a crucial part of him back in New Jersey. Frank turned and lead them through the trees towards the river, trying to puzzle out Damon in his head. He’d fought well against the Lycanthropes, but he was no expert. His swordsmanship and archery were basic but well executed. That made Frank think he was new to the world of demigods, but something in his face told Frank otherwise. It was an expression he sometimes saw on much older, more experienced demigods: a teenager who had seen far too much suffering and death for someone so young. Frank sometimes saw it on Reyna’s face when she thought no-one was looking.

As they approached the river, the rushing waters grew louder, and the smell grew stronger. Frank recognized it as rotten eggs. Sulfur. Soon, they emerged from between two oak trunks onto the bank of the black river. Over the other side, Frank saw a couple of campers see them and run to the edge of the water, waving frantically at them and shouting something, though the river was too wide and loud to make out what they were saying.

“I’ll carry you one at a time,” said Frank, turning to the others. “I don’t want to raise the alarm by flying is as a dragon, so I’ll carry Hazel over as an eagle, then come back for Damon.” The pair nodded, and Hazel stepped forwards. 

“Be careful,” she said, eyeing the black water nervously before raising her arms into a t-pose. Frank crouched, spreading his arms as they sprouted feathers and became enormous wings. His sharp eagle eyes saw the campers across the river start waving even faster. They started shouting with more urgency, but Frank still couldn’t quite hear them. He spread his wings, grabbed Hazel’s arms in his talons, and took off. Not wanting to fly close to the water, Frank flapped his wings, ascending in a spiral until he felt he was far enough away from the river to risk flying over.

And then everything went wrong.

It was like the river had a mind of its own. As soon as he was over its water, it started to churn like a barrel of angry snakes. Frank flapped his wings, but the air suddenly seemed a little too thin, and they started losing altitude. He flapped his wings again, but in doing so discovered that they were no longer wings. They were arms. Frank was a human again, and he and Hazel were now plummeting towards the roaring black river. He caught Hazel’s eye, and she looked as shocked as he felt.

They hit the water like cannonballs, instantly sinking several feet below the surface, the cold shocking the air out of Frank’s lungs. And then the ache hit. A deep, aching emptiness poisoned his blood. At the back of his head, he saw images of Jason like an old projector- Jason promoting him to praetor; Jason sharing with him the history of Camp Jupiter; Jason, dead at the hands of Caligula. Every picture sent an unbearable agony round his body. He tried to grab Hazel’s hand, to turn into a fish, to swim them both to the surface, but he suddenly realized that there was no point. Frank would never be the praetor that Jason had been. He could never match Reyna. And now Jason was dead and he wasn’t coming back. 

The icy rapids gashed at Frank’s cheeks, whipping his head back and forth. He felt Hazel’s hand close around his,and pulled her close. She buried her face in his chest, sobbing and choking on the water, and Frank had to fight from doing the same. Even so, a few tears escaped him and were washed away into the stream. His lungs started screaming for oxygen, but the pain felt distant. As if it were happening to somebody far away. He suddenly realized, more than he ever had before, that his time was limited. One day, he would meet a monster that was too strong for him, or he would make a mistake, or he would be too slow, or the fireproof bag around his firewood would break. And that would be it. This river hurt more than anything in his life, but it would be over soon. He felt Hazel become limp and relaxed in his arms, and Frank felt himself do the same. He closed his eyes, holding Hazel against his chest.

Then, against his closed eyelids, Frank saw images that made him break. He saw his mother smiling at him, a half-memory dancing just out of his reach. He saw battlefields and bombs and guns and his mother’s face, her eyes glassy and empty. Unable to bear it, Frank forced his eyes open, the images still playing on repeat in his mind. He felt water enter his lungs, heard his heartbeat in his ears, and saw something dark and snakelike curling in the black water.

There was a sudden pressure around his chest and stomach. He felt Hazel hand slip out of his as she was pulled away from him. Then, his head was thrown forwards as something jerked his body back through the current. He felt his head break the surface and was almost blinded by the sunlight. Coughing up water, Frank felt his body slumped onto the dry earth, and as soon as he left the body of the river, the indescribable, agonizing emptiness inside him vanished. Hazel was next to him, sputtering even harder than he was. Frank reached over and grabbed her, hugging her tighter than he ever had before, pressing her desperately into his chest as though she might disappear any second. They were both shivering from the frigid water, and when Frank looked down he saw something wrapped around his torso. It was a network of flowers, with white and pale purple blossoms that were shaped like stars. He pulled them off himself, and Hazel did the same. Then, he looked up.

Damon was swaying where he stood, with the flowers sprouting from the ground at his feet. Frank couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he, a praetor, had just been saved by this kid, but next what he felt in that river, embarrassment was nothing. Sweat drenched Damon’s forehead, dripping into his eye, and he was mumbling incoherently under his breath.

“Th-thanks,” Frank said through chattering teeth. Damon fell to his knees and crawled over to them. His face was suddenly alive with concern. He looked much more present, and he was panting heavily.

“Are you ok? You were drowning, I- I should’ve been faster- I’m sorry…” he sounded exhausted. 

“We’re ok,” managed Hazel, getting to her feet. She was still shivering violently, but she stretched out her palm and conjured a small blue fire at her feet to warm herself. Frank stood up shuffled over to it feeling its warmth wash over him. Damon smiled in relief at the sight of them standing, which made him look much more like an ordinary kid. The change was striking. How could he be so distant one second and so normal the next?

“What  _ is _ that thing?” asked Hazel darkly, nodding to the river. It had shown Frank his worst, most painful memories, and he could tell from her town that it had done the same to Hazel. There passed a moment of quiet understanding between them. 

“The Kokytos,” said a voice, making Hazel, Frank and Damon all jump in surprise. Frank instinctively reached for his bow before realizing it was just Nico, who had appeared from the shadow of a nearby tree. “We have a  _ lot _ to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing for an already existing character was... kind of terrifying. I hope I did Frank justice. 
> 
> Also, I know it's spelled Cocytus in the book, but I'm using the spelling Kokytos just because I think it looks cooler.


	8. The Kokytos

Nico hadn’t gotten any less prone to making Frank jump out of his skin.

“You _have_ to stop doing that,” said Frank, though he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Nico.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling back. He nodded at Hazel, who instantly ran up to him and hugged him, taking Nico quite off guard. After their experience in the river, Frank knew how she felt.

“Good to see you,” she said as she released him. “What’s happened? We haven’t heard from you in a month.”

“That happened,” said Nico, nodding at the river. “It’s been keeping us trapped in Camp. It’s been blocking communication somehow, too. We can’t even fly over it- we lost a pegasus trying. That eagle we sent you barely got out alive.”

“The Kokytos?” said Frank, not sure he had heard correctly. “One of the rivers that flow into Tartarus?” Nico nodded.

“It appeared out of nowhere about a month ago. Shadow travel is the only way in or out, so I’ve been busy acting ferryman.”

“Any idea why it’s here?”

“I tried talking to dad, but he says he doesn’t know. I’m not sure if that’s true or he just won’t talk about it. Clarisse has been sending out missions for information, but Chiron will probably want to brief you himself. Damon, Hazel,” he turned to them. “Can you help me with the return journey?”

“Sure,” said Hazel, though Damon looked less confident.

“Uh… I’ve never shadow traveled before.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll do most of the work.” Nico walked to the shadow of the nearest tree and the others followed. Hazel, Nico and Damon all linked arms, and Frank held tightly to Hazel’s hand. He felt a little conspicuous, being the only one who wasn’t a shadow traveler, but he brushed the feeling aside.

The darkness engulfed them. The speed of travel whipped at Frank’s cold face like knives, and his stomach lurched nauseatingly. When the motion stopped, Frank stumbled forwards and leaned onto a nearby tree to steady himself. He fared better than Damon, however, who fell flat on his face, shivering violently.

 _“That_ was shadow travel?” he said, standing up. He was out of breath, and his eyes were wide in shock. The effort had drained his face, making his red scars look even more vivid.

“Fun, isn’t it?” said Nico.

“Are you guys ok?” Another camper ran up to them. He had shaggy blond hair and bright blue eyes. Frank was reminded against his will of Jason. “The other campers said they tried to warn you. You should come to the infirmary- all that Underworld water in your lungs isn’t good.”

“What’s wrong with the Underworld?” said Nico, strangely reproachful.

“Oh, shut up,” said the boy, rolling his eyes.

“I’m taking them to Chiron. You can fuss over them afterward.”

“Fine,” he sighed. He looked at Hazel and Frank. “I’ll see you two in the infirmary when you’re done?” Despite his casual, sunny appearance, he sounded strangely forceful.

“Sure,” said Frank. The boy walked off, and Nico watched him go. “Who was that?”

“Will Solace, my… friend. Apollo Cabin.” Nico didn’t look fazed, but there was a tiny pause while he spoke.

“Right.” Frank couldn’t help but suspect there was something Nico wasn’t saying, especially since Nico, Hazel and Damon all exchanged subtle glances. Nico started walking towards the Big House, and the others followed. Hazel walked ahead with Nico, catching him up about everything at Camp Jupiter, leaving Frank to walk with Damon, who was once again blank and distant.

“Hey,” said Frank. “Thanks for saving us. Really. That river…” he shivered, trying not to remember how it felt. That much misery was not meant to be contained by one person.

“It- it was just luck, really. You would’ve done the same for me.” Once again, Damon switched from distant and empty to present and bubbly in a split second, practically stinging Frank’s neck from the whiplash.

“That flower,” said Frank, trying not to relapse into awkward silence. He glanced over his shoulder at the ropes of blossom that Damon had used to save him. “What is it?”

“Asphodel…” said Damon. A shadow crossed his face as he spoke, but it was gone a moment later.

“Like the fields,” said Frank, remembering. “In the Underworld.” He suddenly wondered if Hazel had seen her time in the Fields of Asphodel as they were drowning. It was so strange that such a pretty, innocent-looking flower could be associated so closely with death.

“Can all children of Mars shapeshift?” asked Damon suddenly. He looked like an excited child again- nervous, but with eyes full of curiosity.

“Just me.” Frank permitted himself a small smile. “I’m a legacy of Poseidon, too. He blessed my whole family to be shapeshifters.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Yeah…” said Frank slowly. To a kid, it must seem pretty cool. But what Damon didn’t know was that his power came at a very high price. After a minute of silence, they reached the big house, where Chiron and Mr. D were out playing cards with a very nervous-looking satyr. Chiron had his horse body compacted into his wheelchair, while Mr. D wore a disgustingly loud yellow shirt.

“Mr. Zhang, Miss. Levesque-” Chiron began his voice oddly quiet. “And… Damon?”

“We ran into-”

“ _Lower your voice_ ,” Mr. D hissed, wincing in pain and putting a hand to his head. Hazel paused, unsure, then whispered.

“We ran into him on the way here. There’s some stuff you need to know.” Mr. D looked at her and sighed deeply.

“We can finish our game later,” said Chiron politely. Mr. D stood up.

“Oh, fine. But I’ll be back in 10 minutes. If you aren’t done briefing by then I’m turning you all into vegetation.” The satyr bleated nervously as Mr. D disappeared in a purple flash.

“What’s with him?” asked Nico.

“It seems,” said Chiron delicately, “that our director’s restrictions have not been entirely removed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Zeus, despite what it may seem, does have rather a sense of humor. Yesterday at dinner, Mr. D may have gone a little… overboard, regarding his alcohol consumption.”

“A hangover?!” Nico laughed. “The god of wine has a _hangover_?!”

“Apparently so.” Chiron pursed his lips. “And you should probably be more delicate on the topic, Mr. di Angelo, if you wish to retain your sanity.” Chiron gestured to the empty chairs. The satyr vacated his nervously and hurried off, leaving the table free. “Please, sit,” said Chiron, placing his hand of cards on the table. “It sounds like we need to talk.”

* * *

Frank and Hazel went first. Chiron listened intently as they talked about Carla and the Lycanthropes, nodding and creasing his brow with concern. When they finished, he leaned back and contemplated them with wise and worried eyes.

“Clarisse noticed more Lycanthrope activity,” he said. “But this is the first we’ve heard of Lycaon since the war with Gaia. As for Carla… I’ve never heard of her. She’s never been to Camp Half-Blood. And she must be powerful if she’s able to control Lycaon himself. Do you know what she was after?”

“Damon, apparently,” said Hazel. “It was almost as if...”

“As if she led us to him,” Frank finished. “She was too obvious, too easy to follow. And she knew our names.”

“Troubling…” said Chiron, lost in thought. He stared off into the distance, puzzling it over and casting glances at Damon, who looked down and started fiddling with his shirt nervously.

“But what about the Kokytos?” Hazel prompted. “Do you have any idea how it got here?”

“One,” said Chiron, “but I sincerely hope I am wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Frank leaned forward, curious.

“I mean it must have been an extremely powerful Underworld deity to have raised the Kokytos. If it wasn’t Hades then…”

“Zagreus?” said Nico. He had been so silent that his voice surprised the group. Chiron paused, then nodded slowly.

“Possibly.”

“Who’s Zagreus?” asked Frank.

“A god. A very, very old one, in fact. Older than Ancient Greece. There are fragmentary sources for him, but they all seem to conflict. Some say he is a son of Hades and Persephone. Others say his father is Zeus, instead. I would have expected him to have faded long ago, but something seems to have kept him alive.” Frank looked at Hazel, thinking hard.

“How do you know about him?”

“He was part of the new Great Prophecy,” said Nico. “Didn’t you receive it, too?”

“We haven’t received any prophecies for months,” said Hazel. “We assumed it was the whole Apollo thing settling down.”

“Strange…” said Chiron thoughtfully. “I shall… _persuade_ Mr. D to contact Apollo. Perhaps he might have some answers. Speaking of, he will be back soon.”

“I’ll take you to the infirmary,” said Nico, standing up. Frank, Hazel and Damon all did the same.

“Actually…” said Damon, “I should contact my parents, let them know I’m ok.”

“Mm,” said Chiron, too deep in thought to be listening properly. “Well, I won’t deprive Mr. Solace of his patients any longer.” Frank and Hazel followed Nico into the Big House, while Damon headed towards the Cabins. Inside, Will was waiting for them, with two beds made and a plateful of ambrosia squares.

“Took you long enough,” said Will, walking up to Nico. He grabbed his hand and kissed him gently on the cheek, causing Nico to blush furiously.

“Will...” he said, smiling bashfully before returning the kiss.

“You two sit on the beds,” Will ordered, ignoring Nico. Frank stared at the blushing Nico, entirely unsure how to react until Hazel nudged him and he walked over to the bed, still reeling in surprise. Nico looked shy- which wasn’t an expression he usually wore- mixed with a secret sort of smile. “How long were you underwater?”

“A minute, maybe less,” said Nico. It had felt more like decades to Frank. He might have spent a lifetime under those rapids.

“I guess it could be worse,” Will sighed, though he sounded unconvinced. He grabbed a single square of Ambrosia, broke it in half, and handed one half each to Frank and Hazel. Frank ate his, still not entirely sure how to process what had just happened. “But those aren’t normal waters. Miranda was unconscious for days after she took a dive. If Connor hadn’t been nearby…” Will trailed off, leaving an uncomfortable silence in which Frank tried not to let the images he’d seen in the river take over his imagination.

“The Kokytos isn’t supposed to be survived,” said Hazel quietly. “Annabeth mentioned it. When they fell into Tartarus, they landed in the Kokytos. If Percy hadn’t been able to control the water…”

“And now it’s here,” said Nico. He suddenly looked a lot paler. The old Nico- the cold, starved, defensive one- suddenly looked out from behind his eyes. Frank remembered that he, too, had been through Tartarus. And he’d done it alone. Seeing that river here, at Camp, couldn’t be good for him. Cut off from the outside world by the Kokytos… it was almost as if he was trapped in Tartarus again. Frank couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt.

Then, seeing the shadow on Nico’s face, Will walked silently up to him and took his hand. This time, Nico didn’t blush. He didn’t resist. Will gently pulled Nico close to him, pressing Nico’s head into his chest. There was silence, except for the Will’s and Nico’s breathing. Nico tensed up, then relaxed into Will’s arms, his breathing becoming deep and meaningful. Frank looked at Hazel, who was staring at the pair with wide eyes and a sad, gentle smile. Frank walked over to her and touched her hand, causing her to look at him. Then, she pulled Frank into a hug. For a moment, Frank’s mind just stopped, and the two couples were in an unexpected peace.

Frank pulled away, and there was a slightly awkward silence as the four of them stared at each other. Nico was the first to speak.

“Uh… I should probably go… set up Hazel’s bed. If you’re staying in the Hades Cabin again, I mean.”

“Oh, sure…” Hazel looked at the ground. Nico walked out of the infirmary and, on an impulse, Frank ran out after him, catching up halfway to the Cabins.

“Hey…” said Frank, falling into step beside him. Nico didn’t look up. His shoulders tensed, closing him off from conversation.

“What?”

“I just… well, you never told me. All those visits to Camp Jupiter-”

“Told you what?” Nico stopped, defensive. Frank was treading unknown waters, but he persevered.

“You know what I mean. I-”

“I just never came up, ok?” he snapped. Frank took this as a signal to stop talking, but after a moment Nico looked at the ground and shrugged. “Sorry…” he said at last. “I’m still not totally comfortable with, you know?”

“It’s ok,” said Frank quickly. “I just wanted to say, I support you. That’s all.”

“It’s not ok. Not to me. Now that I’m out, everyone expects me to be ok with it, to be comfortable with it. And like, I am. Kind of. At least, I don’t hate myself like I used to. But sometimes I still wish people didn’t know about it.” Nico evaded Frank’s eye, his gaze wandering over the grass. “Pretty much everyone knows, around here. But I thought, maybe, at Camp Jupiter, things didn’t have to change. Between us.” He was kicking at the ground, denting the dirt with his shoes, and he twisted the skull ring on his finger in agitation.

“I… I won’t tell anyone. At Camp Jupiter. At least until you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” Nico looked at Frank gratefully. He stopped kicking at the ground and stared over at the canoe lake. Frank noticed it was devoid of boats, and looked eerily still.

“The Kokytos,” said Nico, seeing his expression. “It’s poisoned the lake. And the shore. It’s why we couldn’t escape by sea. Those poor naiads...” Frank pondered this, and an idea occurred to him.

“What about the Labyrinth?” Nico shook his head.

“Something’s wrong with it. Every time we try, we end up back at Camp. Even Rachel can’t get out. She says something else is controlling it, manipulating it so that we can’t escape.”

“Zagreus?”

“Maybe. Gods, I wish we knew more about him. I hate being in the dark.”

“You?” said Frank, grinning slightly. “Aren’t you like, the Lord of Darkness?” Nico bit lip, smiling a little.

“Will calls me that sometimes.” There was a longer silence. Frank counted to 20. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but he felt like he should say something.

“I- I get it, you know. Being on the outside. I underst-”

“Please don’t say you understand.” Nico didn’t become defensive again, but there was an edge to his voice. “Say you accept it. I appreciate that. But don’t say you understand it. That’s something you can’t do.”

“Sorry…” Frank mumbled, still fumbling for the right thing to say. Nico took a deep breath and kept talking, still not looking at Frank.

“You know, everyone thinks the closet is simple. When you come out, either you get kicked out and become a statistic, or you get accepted and become normal.” He started kicking at the dirt again. “But that’s wrong. Just because I’m not suddenly homeless, it doesn’t mean I can accept who I am... _what_ I am. Being out doesn’t erase the years of conditioning and shaming. It doesn’t suddenly make me ok with it. I was born in the 1930s, Frank. I’m not sure I can ever be ok with it.”

Frank took a long time deciding what to say.

“But I’m ok with it,” he said at last. “And if anyone isn’t, I’ll pulverize them.”

“Thanks,” said Nico, ghosting a smile.

“And I know I’m not an authority on this,” Frank continued, “but I know you’ll be ok. One day.”

Nico shrugged, slipped his hands into his pockets, and headed towards the Hades Cabin.  
“Ok, no more heartfelt conversations,” he said over his shoulder. “They aren’t my style.” That was only _mostly_ true. He’d opened up infinitely more than the old Nico ever would- that had to be a good sign. Frank watched him go, hoping he’d given Nico some help. The kid had been through so much, gods knew he deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAaaaa I hope this isn't out of character or too angsty for Nico. I don't want the canon characters to be static, but at the same time I don't want to write them 'wrong', so I hope this strikes that balance.


	9. The Calm Before

**YUNISE**

The overwhelming smell of damp fur is not quite the same thing as smelling salts, but it woke Yunise up just as effectively. Her head lurched into consciousness and she was sitting bolt upright before she could remember her own name. Her skull ached, and her chest and legs felt as if they’d been cracked like glow sticks.

“Awake. Took you long enough,” said a vaguely familiar voice. Yunise looked blearily around and saw Oliver, the satyr, sitting nearby on a small boulder. His furry goat legs were dripping wet, and Yunise wrinkled her nose against their damp scent.

“Wha- where’s Jasmine. And… where are we?” Their surroundings were distinctly odd. They were in a sort of open cave, with damp dust caking the floor and a waterfall in front of the entrance. Suddenly, a huge shadow appeared behind the water and a long, gray snake parted it like a curtain. As the animal entered the cave, the snake grew and thickened until Yunise realized it wasn’t a snake at all. It was an elephant. The sight was too much for her concussed head. “This isn’t California.”

“Sure it is,” said Oliver. “Sacramento Zoo. Jasmine’s out getting food.”

“Wha- how’d you get into the elephant enclosure? And without getting trampled?”

“They let us in,” said Oliver, pointing to the elephant as if this were obvious. The elephant exhaled at him as if sighing before turning to Yunise. It approached and she tried to scramble backward, but her whole body erupted in agony at the effort. The elephant stopped approaching only a few feet away, staring at her with intelligent eyes.

“Are you gonna help me or what?” Yunise said to Oliver, trying not to panic at the sight of those sharp tusks.

“What,” said Oliver. Yunise stared at him, incredulous. The elephant huffed again, pointing at him with its trunk. Oliver rolled his eyes, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Yunise, meet Mama Nia.”

“You mean…” Yunise stared at the elephant, who bent its front knees in what was unmistakably a bow. “It can talk?”

“ _Bla-ha_ \- of course she can talk! You humans just never learned how to listen.” Mama Nia exhaled again, tossing her trunk in Oliver’s direction, who looked away. “Sorry…” he mumbled. “Mama Nia’s our host. She helped heal you.”

“Healed me? How?” The elephant took another step closer, and this time, Yunise resisted the urge to back away.

“Elephants have a lot of powerful nature magic,” said Oliver. “Of course, if I’d had my panpipes, I could've done it myself. I don’t know where you got it, but that harp is rubbish. It barely had enough magic to keep you alive until we got here. Anyway, Mama Nia did the rest.”

“I… thanks.” Yunise looked into the elephant’s eyes. They were deeply wrinkled, almost as if the elephant was smiling at her. It took another step closer and raised its trunk. Yunise flinched, but the elephant merely tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. It was incredibly gentle for a creature so large. Then Yunise’s brain caught up with her. “Wait… you mean Jasmine’s harp?”

“No, I mean the other harp that I just happen to keep with me at all times. Yes of course I mean Jasmine’s harp.” Yunise tried not to let herself be irritated.

“Well, thanks for keeping me alive or… saving me or whatever.”

“I don’t need your thanks,” said Oliver bitterly. “No point in just letting you die.” Yunise was taken aback.

“I was being grateful. No need to be an ass about it.” For some reason, Oliver took this a lot more harshly than Yunise meant it. He stood and glared at Yunise.

“ _Ass_? An ass who saved your life and carried you out of a burning building. Next time I won’t bother.” He stormed towards the front of the cave, his back to Yunise.

“Wait- what?” Yunise blinked hard, her sluggish brain struggling to keep. “No, I didn’t mean- I wasn’t calling you a- AGH.” She had moved too quickly, and pain swamped her body. A gentle pressure pushed her back into a lying position, and when Yunise’s vision cleared, she saw Mama Nia standing over her. She swayed her trunk back and forth over Yunise’s body, breathing deeply and slowly. Something cool and gentle began to ripple through her body, and she relaxed into the floor, letting her eyes fall shut. As she felt her breathing slow, she heard Oliver’s half of the conversation with Mama Nia, who made a series of elephantine murmurs.

“I don’t need healing,” said Oliver caustically. Mama Nia grunted, and Yunise wished she could understand her half of the conversation. There was a silence, and when Oliver next spoke he seemed to be biting back his anger. “Mama Nia says it won’t take much longer to heal you. As soon as she’s done, we fly out to NYC.”

“Hey, who made you the boss?” Yunise tried to sit up, but Mama Nia pushed her back down with her trunk. “Can’t you just explain what’s going on.” Mama Nia sighed, and Yunise heard Oliver’s hooves against the stone floor towards her. He stopped, and Yunise turned her head to see him sitting cross-legged beside her.

“Fine,” he sighed, closing his eyes before looking at Yunise with a slightly strained patience. “You have questions.”

“Of course I do. One: why NYC?”

“There’s a summer camp on Long Island called Camp Half-Blood. It trains demigods. It’s one of the only safe places for a demigod in the country.”

“Isn’t there any place a little closer than NYC?” Yunise’s body was filled with the ache of exhaustion and injury, and right now a cross-country plane ride wasn’t too appealing. Oliver shrugged.

“There’s Camp Jupiter, but that’s mostly for Roman demigods.”

“Roman and Greek…” Yunise’s mind whirred. “Aren’t they the same gods?”

“More or less.” Oliver’s snarky attitude seemed to have disappeared, at least for the moment. “The gods have different aspects depending on how they’re worshipped. The Roman side of things is a lot less kind than the Greek side, so unless you want to risk being judged by Lupa, you-”

“No,” said Yunise, a little louder than she meant it. “Lupa’s not really an option for me. Not anymore.” Oliver looked at her curiously.

“What happened?”

“I, uh, may have met her. And insulted her. And told her to kill me.”

“You _idiot_.” Oliver rolled his eyes, his sarcastic air returned in full force, but Yunise thought she saw a slightly amused smile pass across his lips. Yunise let herself smile exhaustedly back. “You survived though. That’s… something.”

“Thanks… I think.”

“Whatever.” Though Yunise couldn’t quite see, she was sure Oliver was rolling his eyes. Then, another question sprung to mind.

“How many other demigods are there?”

“Depends. They don’t all make it to Camp Half-Blood.”

“What do you mean?” Something in Oliver’s tone made Yunise a little uneasy.

“Monsters can smell demigods, same way satyrs can. Some demigods end up a tasty snack for fuckers like Gump and Shoe. Or worse.” Oliver sounded bitter, but in a different way to before. His snarkiness was replaced with a quiet anger, underpinned with a shade of sadness.

“That’s… horrible.”

“Yeah, well…” Yunise suddenly felt in intense agreement with the satyr and sensed a deeper reason for his hostility. Oliver continued, poking at the ground with his hoof. “To be honest, I’m surprised you made it this far. I haven't been a protector long, but you’re the most powerful demigod I’ve ever smelled. You should’ve been killed by monsters years ago.”

“Thanks, I think,” said Yunise again. Oliver grunted and stood up, briefly catching Yunise’s eye.

“I’ll leave you to your elephant spa. Jasmine’s taken way too long getting food.” 

“Do we even have any money?”

“Nope. I should’ve guessed she doesn’t have the nerve to pickpocket. Typical mortal. Guess I have to do everything myself.”

“She got you out of the cyclopes’ den alive, didn’t she?”

“I was handling myself,” said Oliver, his defensive snark returning in full force.

“Sure you were,” Yunise fired back, equally sarcastic but allowing herself a tired smile. “Sure you were.” As Oliver left the cave, Yunise let her eyes close. Mama Nia’s magic began to drift through her veins once again, and she let herself slide back into a gentle sleep.

* * *

As soon as she woke up, she knew something was wrong. The light had changed outside, telling her a considerable amount of time had passed. On the plus side, when she sat up she felt completely healed and energized. Mama Nia’s magic had worked better than Yunise ever imagined.

Speaking of Mama Nia, Yunise saw movement out of the corner of her eye and spotted the elderly elephant sitting in the corner. Yunise stood up and approached her cautiously, and as she did her apprehension was concerned. The elephant’s intelligent eyes were wide and alert, and her tail was stiff and poised like a dog’s. Seeing Yunise wake, she stood up and lowered her head. Yunise could tell she was trying to communicate, and only wished she could understand. She placed a hand gently on the creatures cracked and wrinkled skin, feeling its warmth on her fingertips.

“What’s wrong?” she said softly. “What is it?” Mama Nia pushed her head into Yunise’s palm, and all of a sudden a familiar pain shot through her skull. She knew what it was instantly, and her stomach turned.

It was one of her… ‘abilities’, more or less. Sometimes she would get a sharp headache, her vision would go dark, and a series of images would flash across her mind. They were never good. And they were never wrong. When she was 7, she saw cars- blood- screaming- flying- sirens- the face of a child. Later that day, one of her classmates was severely in a car accident. When she was 9, she saw a giant ball of fire in the sky, blinding her like a second sun. No one believed her. Even she began to doubt it. Three days later, an occupied space shuttle disintegrated on re-entry. She hadn’t doubted her visions since.

This time, she saw a girl with long, silky hair- a black river- a battlefield- an old ruin- a boy with ghostlike eyes- and two people she recognized: Oliver and Jasmine, both lying still on a grassy floor. The vision was too brief to be sure, but Yunise had the horrible feeling they weren’t asleep.

When her sight returned, she found herself still standing with her hand on Mama Nia’s forehead. Gathering her wits as quickly as she could, she looked around the cave to no avail; whatever kind of trouble Jasmine and Oliver were in, they had taken the sword with them. Still, Yunise felt steady on her feet, strength returned to her recently broken legs. She walked to the entrance of the cave, but a thought made her turn back. She got the feeling she wouldn’t be seeing Mama Nia again, and it felt important to say goodbye. The elephant was still standing at the back of the cave, her intelligent eyes staring deeply into Yunise. A sudden and great awe for the animal crept up her spine, and she kneeled on the damp stone floor, her head bowed.

“Thank you,” she said with as much respect and gravitas as she could. She heard the elephant move and glanced up to see her raise her trunk and push in into the waterfall over the entrance, parting it like a curtain. Yunise stood and took one last look at the elephant. She nodded, and Mama Nia lowered her large head gently before gesturing towards the exit. Yunise understood, and stepped out the gentle darkness of the cave into the blinding rays of a sun low in the sky, readying herself for whatever might come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.. hit a massive writer's block on this one. TBH I'm not super happy with how it turned out but hopefully posting it will get me back into the rhythm of it. Turns out- writing? Not that easy. I'm still having so much fun with this story though and I can't wait to get to the climax. My style of writing tends to often include a twist or reveal of some sort so... that'll be coming eventually. Before that, I've got some more greek-mythology-centered characters and creatures that didn't appear in canon, so I get to be creative while still staying in theme :DD.


	10. To Walk Into the Lion's Den

**YUNISE**

Something was very wrong with the people at the zoo. Yunise emerged from the back of the elephant enclosure, dressed in torn and singed clothing, and was not accosted by a single person- visitor or staff- as she navigated between the other elephants. She found a door in the wire fence that the zoo handlers must have used, and she tried to open it, only to find it locked. A young woman in staff attire smiled vacantly at her from a few feet away while visitors and tourists trickled past her. All of them had blank, dazed expressions, and the zookeeper swayed slightly as she stood.

“We are having fun at the zoo,” said the youngest child of a nearby family.

“Yes,” said his father. “This is a vacation. We are having fun here.”

“Everyone is having fun at the zoo,” hummed the zookeeper, nodding with approval at the passing family. Yunise, though thoroughly disquieted, ignored them, looking at the lock. She considered climbing the wire fence, but then another thought occurred, and she began ruffling through her choppy black hair. Since her uneven cut would often dangle into her eyes, she usually shoved a few pins in to keep her hair to the side. Of course, a lot had happened since she’d last dressed, and her hair had been thoroughly messed up in the intervening time. Luckily, one hairpin survived, and she hastily jammed it into the lock, wiggling it about randomly.

As it turned out, the movies lied. No matter how much she struggled with the hairpin, twisting it this way and that, the lock remained stubborn. In her frustration, she almost rattled the door off its hinges, and the zookeeper looked up at the noise.

“Are you having fun?” she asked brightly. Yunise stopped shaking the door, entirely unsure how to respond to her unnerving, almost robotic demeanor.

“Uh… not really,” Yunise said. The zookeeper’s smile vanished almost instantly, and her eyes became huge globes of concern.

“That’s not good! The zoo is a fun place. You should be having fun.”

“Well,” said Yunise, an idea popping into her head, “it’s not very fun being stuck in here. If you unlocked this door, maybe then I could have fun.”

“Yes!” the zookeeper cried, her face lighting up. Yunise hadn’t expected it to be that easy. The zookeeper walked up to her, lifting a set of keys from her belt and inserting them into the lock. Up close, Yunise could see just how blank her eyes were- as if she were sleepwalking. A shiver ran down her spine, though she forced a smile as the door swung open.

“Thank you!” she said with an artificial cheeriness.

“Are you having fun now?”

“Yes. Lots of fun.”

“That’s good. The zoo is a fun place. Everyone has fun here.”

“They sure do,” Yunise muttered under her breath as she walked briskly away, navigating the crowd of soulless tourists as she searched for a map to get her bearings. She spotted a large plastic sign nearby and headed for it, dodging a large parade of elementary school children who were all chanting ‘Fun! Zoo! Fun! Zoo!’ with ominous, emotionless voices.

On the map, a large red circle marked Yunise’s location. With nothing else to go on, she decided to look around the nearest food stalls and cafes, since, last she knew, Oliver and Jasmine were out getting food. But according to the map, she was so completely surrounded by cafes and food trucks that it was impossible to know where to start.

“Are you having fun?” Yunise wheeled around and was unnerved to see the blank-faced zookeeper standing right behind her. Once again, Yunise forced an artificial smile.

“Oh, yes, lots of fun. Thank you.”

“I don’t think you are,” said the zookeeper. Yunise faltered. The zookeeper didn’t move, but her emotionless demeanor suddenly became strangely dangerous.

“Uh… don’t worry, I’m having lots of fun.”

“I think you’re lying.” Yunise took a step backward, stumbling into the map behind her. “I think you’re looking for your friends.”

“My- you know where they are?”

“You need your friends to have fun at the zoo.” The zookeeper nodded, raised her hand, and beckoned with one finger before turning and drifting away through the dreamy crowd. Yunise hesitated for a second but, seeing as she had no alternative, she chased the zookeeper through the crowd, dodging dreamy tourists as she struggled not to lose sight of her guide.

She didn’t wonder where they were going for very long. They remained in the ‘African Animals’ section and passed only a few enclosures before the zookeeper stopped, turned, and headed to the nearest fence. As Yunise approached, the crowds parted and she saw the zookeeper turning slowly on the spot, accompanied by several other women. Even at a distance, the sight of these women concerned her even more than the faceless crowd. When she drew closer, she saw why. They weren’t faceless or dreamy; they were haughty, relaxed and fierce, and they locked hungry eyes with Yunise.

“Oh, poppet, you made it!” said the girl in the middle. She was both the shortest and the youngest, but she was unquestionably in charge. She had long, silky brown hair and blood red lipstick. There were four women flanking her like guards, all with slightly pointed, leerish smiles. The zookeeper stopped by the girl’s side, while Yunise kept her distance. “Thank you, Jane.” The girl turned to the zookeeper. “That’s all. I think the penguins need feeding, don’t you?”

“Oh, of course,” said Jane the zookeeper, and she drifted away, leaving Yunise alone with her adversaries. Yunise decided not to mess around.

“Where are they?” The girl feigned insult.

“How rude. Would a simple ‘hello’ be too much to ask for?”

“Where are Oliver and Jasmine?” Yunise growled.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Yunise. Your friends told me all about-”

“WHERE ARE THEY?” Yunise bellowed. She didn’t have time for mind games. Anger rushing in her ears, she snapped her fingers and sent one of the girl’s bodyguards flying backward. The woman hit the lion’s fence with a rattle and slumped to the floor. The girl in the middle didn’t look even remotely fazed.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said cheerily. “My... _friends_ are the only ones keeping your _friends_ alive.” Yunise opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but just then her eyes drifted over the girl’s shoulder and into the lion enclosure.

Her stomach turned. Oliver and Jasmine were bound and gagged back to back, both with gashes on their cheeks. They didn’t look conscious, but they were at least alive- their chests rising and falling almost in sync. Behind them were the lions, all shaking and wide-eyed. They looked almost as injured as Oliver and Jasmine, and the only thing keeping them from going on a terrified rampage was a ring of red fire keeping them cornered at the back of the enclosure.

“Oh, where are my manners. I’m Carla, by the way.” Yunise didn’t respond. She was too busy staring at Jasmine and Oliver, rage clouding her vision. Carla followed Yunise’s gaze before continuing. “Yes. My friends are pretty good with fire, don’t you think? But if you knock them all out, there’ll be no one keep the lions in check and, well… you know what they say about a wounded animal.”

She knew exactly what Carla meant. Those lions were scared and hurt. Without the fire, they would attack everything around them, starting with her friends. Yunise allowed herself to breathe. Carla had been meticulous and cunning, but there was something she’d fail to take into account- something she could never have known about.

“Now,” Carla reached into her pocket and brought out a syringe. “You’re going to do exactly as I say, OK sweetie?”

“OK,” said Yunise. She began to walk closer, refusing to show any sign of fear, until she was face to face with Carla. “What do you want?” Carla nodded at the syringe in her hand which, now that Yunise was closer, she saw was filled with a sharp green liquid.

“It’s simple really. It won’t hurt a bit. At first.” Carla dropped her dazzling smile and looked intensely at Yunise. “Give me your arm.” Something in the sharpness of her voice compelled Yunise to obey, but the fury rushing in her ears drowned it out.

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Carla’s voice was suddenly ice cold. “This needle plus your arm, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Oh _come on_ ,” Carla rolled her eyes. “We’ve been through this. If you don’t do what I say, my friends will free those lions which will then proceed to tear your friends to shreds while they scream and you watch. Clear?”

“As crystal.” The corner of Yunise’s mouth twitched, and for a split second, Carla looked unsure, though she recovered almost instantly.

“Well then, give me your arm.”

“No.”

“ _What_?” Carla’s eyes bore into Yunise’s like drills. “I said give me your arm.”

“And I said no.” Carla fell silent, and the air behind her seemed to shimmer. One by one, the four remaining bodyguards morphed and twisted, their pants disappearing and their legs becoming something horrific and oh so familiar: one goat, one bronze.

“Do not play games with me,” said Carla in a deadly whisper. “I’m being unreasonably generous. My _empousai_ friends are not as lenient as me.”

“Huh. So that’s what they’re called. I’ve met their kind before.” Yunise kept her tone as casual as possible. She was pretty sure that she had the advantage, but she’d still be putting Oliver and Jasmine’s lives at risk. If she was wrong… “Let’s just say it didn’t end great. For them.” The _empousai_ behind Carla let out a low, collective hiss, but Carla snapped at them.

“Shut it,” she said. “You can have your choice of prey once we’re done with this lot.”

“Of course, that was a few years ago. When I was younger, shorter… less dangerous…”

“You’re in no position to make threats.”

“And you are?”

“You’re running out of time. Put out your arm now, or the lions run free.”

“OK.” This time, Carla really did look taken aback.

“You… we…”

“Go on, have your ‘friends’ lower the fire. Or I’ll do it for them.”

“I-”

“Time’s up.” Yunise raised her hand and sliced it through the air in front of her. With a tug in her gut, she sent all four remaining _empousai_ flying, along with a very surprised Carla. They hit the fence and slid to the floor in unison, groaning blearily, and the syringe slipped out of Carla’s hand and smashed to pieces on the ground.

In an instant, the fire disappeared and there came a guttural roar from the largest of the lionesses, which pounced towards Oliver and Jasmine with drool-dripping jaws, followed by her three brethren. Without a second to waste, Yunise ran up to the fence and placed her hands on it.

“STOP!” she bellowed. There was a pause that felt like an eternity, but the pouncing lions skidded to a halt, staring with terrified eyes at Yunise, who almost collapsed in relief.

“... _lord_?” Yunise heard the voice in her head and identified it as the small lioness with particularly deep gashes in her side. Her voice trembled with fear and rage. The other three lions joined in, all turning in confusion and fear towards Yunise’s voice. With two large lions and two smaller ones, Yunise suddenly realized that they were a family.

“Please, listen to me. You must not hurt them.”

“ _The fire,_ ” said the mother lioness. Her son echoed her words.

“ _The fire... it burned us and the humans bruised us and- and they cut us and-”_

“I know,” Yunise pleaded. “But it wasn’t them.” She pointed towards Oliver and Jasmine. “They are like you. Scared, hurt.”

“ _But the fire, lord,_ ” whimpered the young lioness. _“The burning. We were so afraid. I can’t be burned again. Not like that. We gotta fight back._ ”

“I _know_ ,” said Yunise earnestly. The lions’ wounds were still bleeding, and the sight of such majestic creatures in such pain made her ache. “Believe me, I know.”

“ _She’s our lord, kid,_ ” said the father lion, speaking for the first time. Although he tried to sound brave for his kids, Yunise could sense his fear. “ _If we can’t trust her, we can’t trust anyone_.”

“Thank you,” said Yunise with a sigh of relief as the four lions backed away from her friends. However, her relief was cut short when she heard Carla begin to stir. Thinking fast, she looked at the fence surrounding the lion enclosure. It consisted mostly of a thick glass screen, allowing visitors to get a good view of the lions. “Stand back,” she instructed the lions, and they all retreated to the far end of the enclosure.

In a single motion, Yunise squared her shoulders, gritted her teeth and punched the glass as hard as she could manage. With a violent yell, she summoned a blast of energy that shattered the glass, spraying the enclosure with shards. Pain ravaged her gut and knuckles, but she didn’t have time to think about it because just then she heard a bleary voice coming from behind.

“Wh- you _idiot_. You ruined a perfectly good hostage situation.” Carla was on her feet and, though disoriented, she was quickly regaining her wits. The 5 _empousai_ were also stirring, and when she saw Carla draw a short, curved dagger, she jumped through the glass and into the enclosure.

“They’re all yours!” she yelled at the lions, pointing to Carla and the _empousai_. All four of them roared in enraged approval before the mother and father dived towards their tormentors.

“ _Stay back!”_ yelled the father as the two younger lions made to join in. “ _We’ll take care of them._ ” The young lioness started to protest, but Yunise intercepted her. She already felt horrible about sending the lions into a dangerous fight, and there was no way she would put children in that kind of peril.

“You two, I need your help!” Yunise ran to her friends, with the young lions right behind her. Reaching Oliver and Jasmine, she saw that their injuries were even worse than she thought. Red marks peppered their wrists and arms, and blood stained their clothes from a hundred cuts.

“ _What is it, lord?”_ asked the young lion. Yunise pointed to the ropes binding their wrists, ankles and torsos.

“Use your claws to cut them free.” Catching sight of a trickle of blood dripping from Oliver’s mouth, Yunise averted her eyes. She could handle broken bones, but the sight of blood always made her guts twist. The young lions got to work, carefully slicing through their bonds while Yunise turned back towards the sound of the fight.

Three _empousai_ were down, but the two remaining showed no signs of weakness. As she watched, the lion pinned the nearest monster to the ground, but she merely dissolved into flames and reappeared a few feet away. The lioness had slightly better luck and managed to get a vicious bite into her opponent, though it wasn’t enough to be deadly. Carla, for some reason, was nowhere to be seen.

“We’re done,” said one of the cubs. Yunise turned back around to find Oliver and Jasmine draped loosely by the severed ropes.

“Thanks,” Yunise muttered earnestly. “You two should take cover.”

 _“But we wanna fight!”_ protested the young lioness.

“I think your parents have it covered.” Conveniently, at that moment the lion bit down on the neck of an _empousa_ , who exploded into a shimmering powder. “See?” The cubs didn’t respond, and Yunise got the sense they were a little speechless at seeing their parents fight like that.

Back to the task at hand, Yunise tried to shake Jasmine awake, calling her name several times, but her eyelids didn’t even flicker. Breathing deeply, she raised her hand and apologized in advance.

“Uhh… sorry about this.” And she slapped Jasmine hard across the face. That did the trick, and she sputtered into consciousness.

“Who are…” Jasmine began, but she stalled when she saw Yunise standing over her, before her gaze drifted over to the one remaining _empousa_. Both adult lions roared in unison, and the monster seemed to know she was outmatched. As both beasts launched themselves upon her, she dissolved into flames, disappearing completely. Yunise had only a moment to inwardly celebrate the victory before the screams began.

With the disappearance of the final _empousa_ , the flood of tourists had suddenly become very aware of the chaos at the lion enclosure. People ran screaming from the adult lions, and in less than a minute an alarm sounded over the park speakers.

“Explain later?” Yunise managed a weak smile at Jasmine before rushing over to Oliver. She slapped him across the face, and he awoke surprisingly abruptly. Checking his bonds, he looked up at Yunise before glancing at the floor- almost in embarrassment.

“You’ve been busy.”

“We need to get out of here ASAP.” Yunise didn’t want to think of the kind of questions the zoo staff might ask them if they were caught. Behind her, the lioness nudged gently at her waist. Both Jasmine and Oliver looked like they were about to scream, and their jaws almost fell off when Yunise ran her hand through the lioness’ rich fur.

_“You should go, lord.”_

“What about you? And your family?”

 _“Lord, thank you for what you’ve done, but we’d never be able to escape. Besides, here were are safe and cared for…”_ Yunise got the impression she wasn’t lying. She sounded like she genuinely liked it here, but there was a definite sadness underpinning her voice.

“You want to stay here?”

_“The grasslands are only legends for us. Bedtime stories for the cubs. We are happy here.”_

“Uh, Yunise?” Oliver, now having gotten to his feet- er, hooves, sounded like he was holding back a bleat. He was eyeing the lioness with even more apprehension than Jasmine, and Yunise suddenly remembered he could talk to animals. “We really should go.”

“Yeah,” said Yunise distractedly. The lioness jumped up on her hind legs and Jasmine gasped, but the lioness merely nuzzled her face, her paws on Yunise’s shoulders. Then, she dropped down and approached Jasmine, who backed away as much as she could.

_“This one is sick?”_

“The wheelchair!” Yunise remembered. The lioness nodded.

“Uhh…” said Jasmine.

 _“The monsters destroyed it.”_ The lioness growled. Even after their victory, Yunise could tell that the mention of their tormentors boiled her blood. She looked at Jasmine.

“No more wheelchair. You OK with us carrying you?”

_ALL VISITORS ARE TO MAKE THEIR WAY TO THE NEAREST EMERGENCY EXIT IN AN ORDERLY FASHION. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. EMERGENCY TEAMS HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED._

Jasmine blinked as the deafening announcement echoed in all their ears.

“Sounds like I have to be.” Yunise nodded, and together she and Oliver hoisted Jasmine over their shoulders. As they exited the enclosure, trying their best to blend in with the panicked crowd, she took one last look at the family of lions, all huddled together at the very back of the enclosure.

Seeing the gashes and bruises on the skin of both them and Yunise’s friends, she wondered what the hell Carla had been trying to achieve. To be honest, she had no idea, but as the trio stumbled towards the nearest exit, she knew there was no chance in Hades that it could be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it looks like updates are gonna be much less frequent than they used to :((. But I'm still enjoying this story and writing when I can, so it's not going anywhere except forward. I hope you like the new chapter! :)). I don't have as much time to edit as I'd like, but that might actually have its perks, since I can't afford to add any extraneous detail and gotta keep to the heart of the story. Idk, let me know what y'all think!


	11. Hades Cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baack! Took me long enough. Not a super long chapter but hopefully I'm back into the routine of writing.

**DAMON**

The Iris Message, of course, didn't work. Damon rolled bitter eyes at himself. 

He waved his hand hastily through the mist, and stood in lonely frustration on the frosted grass at the edge of the canoe lake.

“Thanks anyway,” said Damon, looking down. The Naiad who had agreed to give him the mist for a rainbow nodded slowly. The clear winter sun cast harsh shadows over her already gaunt features, and as she melted into the water her eyes seemed to stay behind for a few seconds, filling with dark tears.

The lake water wasn’t black like the Kokytos, but it was clearly contaminated. There were no canoes on the surface, and the water twisted in harsh but exhausted ripples like the staggered, difficult breathing of someone sobbing too hard to move.

Damon turned away. He tried his hardest not to think about his parents, how worried they must be for him to disappear so completely and then not even receive a call. But Nico wasn't kidding when he said Camp had been cut off. While Damon wondered what the school might make of this particular... _event_ , his legs worked on automatic, taking him towards the center of Camp. As he walked, his thoughts drifted so far away, caught on nothing in particular, that he almost jumped when he found himself inside the Hades Cabin with only a half-memory of having gotten there.

The inside was as dark as ever, the green torchlight barely tickling the walls. It looked mostly, although the jewels he had grown in the bone-shrine last summer seemed dustier than they had been, and the entire cabin was bigger than he remembered. On automatic, he went to sit down on one of the beds, and it took a moment to realize that there were three of them.

There had definitely been only two beds last time he was here- the blood red sheets were hard to miss. Now, however, an entire third bed had simply appeared, two of them lying one after the other on the right wall, and the other touching the left wall.

Before Damon’s mind could process much more, he turned at the sound of the door opening behind him. As the outside cold sunlight spilled into the dark room, Nico crossed the threshold, looking only a little surprised to see Damon already there.

“Oh, hey.”

“Hey,” said Damon awkwardly. “Uh, has this place been renovated?”

“What?” Nico looked confused and followed Damon’s gaze to the third bed. “Oh, right. I should’ve guessed the room would make another bed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Annabeth’s amazing at architecture. She didn’t have as much input on this cabin compared to the others, but she still designed the basics. I thought I’d have to give Hazel my bed, y’know? I’m not used to having… multiple siblings.”

Hazel. Of course. Damon could’ve rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, but he was caught on something in Nico’s voice.

“Uh, you ok?” asked Damon. Nico looked up, giving a slight surprising grin.

“Not you too. I just spent all my emotion for this week talking to Frank.”

“Fair enough,” Damon shrugged, managing to laugh a little. “Which one’s mine?”

“Whichever,” said Nico, walking over and sitting heavily on the only bed that showed any sign of use, with creased sheets and Nico’s personal Stygian Iron sword propped against the dark wood frame. “Actually,” Nico corrected himself, “maybe take the one on this side. Hazel likes some privacy.”

Damon walked over to the bed on Nico’s side and sat down. The sight of Nico’s sword had jogged his brain, and he pulled his dagger out from his jeans pocket.

“What exactly _is_ Stygian iron?” Nico looked curiously at him.

“Something happen while you were away?”

“Just today, with the lycanthropes. Looks like silver isn’t the only thing that hurts them.”

“I always wondered.”

“Frank and Hazel said it absorbs monsters essence. Do… do I have a pack of werewolves squished inside my sword?”

“Would you feel better if I said no?” Damon looked apprehensively at his sword, but Nico laughed. “Relax, I’m kidding. They’ll reform in Tartarus eventually- it’ll just take a while.” Damon rolled his eyes, embarrassed but definitely relieved. Staring at the black blade, he suddenly remembered it during the battle with the lycanthropes.

“So, when I was fighting the lycanthropes, this thing…” he turned over the dagger in his fingers. “I needed a bow, and it kinda turned into one.”

“Just like that?” Nico sounded intrigued. Damon nodded.

“As soon as I wished I had a bow.”

“Guess it’s not surprising. A gift from a god is bound to have a few tricks up its sleeve. “Especially, you know… especially a gift from _your_ mom.”

A small awkwardness edged the air, and Damon shifted on his bed, his eyes falling on the bed on the other side of the cabin. At last, his brain caught up with itself as he realized what it meant. Hazel was a daughter of Pluto; she was Nico’s sister, and that meant she was kind of Damon’s sister, too. That was a weird thought. They’d met, battled werewolves, and now they were step-siblings. It had been a long day.

“I should get back to the Kokytos,” sighed Nico, standing up. “I’m supposed to be on patrol.”

“Right.” Damon looked at the floor. “I think I’ll… stay here. Get some sleep.”

“Sleep?” Nico stopped on his way out. “It’s not even 3 yet.”

“I haven’t slept well in… a while. Just need some time before dinner.” Nico shrugged.

“See you then.” Damon nodded as Nico let the door swing shut behind him, the brief spill of outside light vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Saying he hadn’t slept well wasn’t exactly true. It was more like he’d been sleeping _too_ well. He hadn’t felt more than half awake all summer, and oversleeping had become more than an annoyance. He never felt quite real, especially in the morning, and he never stopped being tired. The battle with the werewolves today had been different- his battle reflexes had grounded him, albeit violently. But the excitement was washing out of him. He wished he wasn’t alone, but it was his own fault for isolating himself. Besides, now that the frantic energy of earlier was leeching out of his body, he felt twice as exhausted as usual.

He didn’t even realize he was asleep until the dream started.

 

“Master, if he is showing dissent-”

_Silence._

The first voice was small and familiar. Damon recognized the shifting three-faced god he’d faced that summer. Damon looked around, and a vague dreamscape scenery showed a rumbling storm provoking a churning ocean, icy spray spitting in Damon’s face. In the distance, an ominous black mountain punctured the horizon. An unease settled in his gut, but it wasn’t the sight of the god or the looming black mountain that unnerved him: it was the voice that interrupted Trisheros. Deep, cold and regal, it seemed to echo from the indistinct, shifting scenery of the dream, assaulting Damon’s ears from every angle.

_You failed me, three faced god. Our guest has yet to do so._

“But-”

_Do not think I require the counsel of a failure. You do not know our guest as I do. Olympus thinks itself untouchable. But they are not so above mortal heroes as they think they are._

“You’re sure he is loyal?” Trisheros’ voice seemed smaller every time he spoke.

_Of course not. But he will not risk harming his prize. He will not fail me, unlike you._

“And my prize?”

_Do not fail me again, and you will have what I promised you._

“Thank you, Lord Zag-”

_DO NOT INVOKE MY NAME._

The sudden shouting shook the Earth, and even the storm was shocked into silence.

_We are being… observed._

Trisheros opened his mouth to speak, but in an instant, he dissolved into shadow as the entire world turned dark. Within seconds, nothing was visible but the dark mountain on the midnight horizon. Damon stared at it, his stomach falling at 100 miles per hour, and his heartbeat growing louder in his ears.

He stood there in silence, staring transfixed at the silhouette of the mountain against an almost starless sky. But the mountain wasn’t quite a mountain anymore- it was moving in an unnatural way. A crescent of white appeared beneath its black peak, which grew like a waxing moon. It took a moment of fear for Damon to realize what it was.

It was an _eye_.

When Damon woke up, he was already on his feet. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring at the shrine of bones and jewels at the end of the Hades cabin, though he didn’t remember standing up. He was leaning against the shrine like a sick person over a sink as if he might throw up at any moment. The image of that mountain staring at him with its colossal singular eye invaded his mind. Perhaps he should be used to the vivid dreams of a demigod by now, but he hadn’t had one that crystal clear in months.

Realizing he probably shouldn’t treat a god’s shrine like a sick bag, he quickly let go and straightened himself up. Though the Cabin’s darkness usually felt comforting, the dream had put Damon on edge, and he headed to the door. Reaching it, he heard his stomach rumble, and suddenly realized he couldn’t remember when he last ate.

Damon opened the door, praying to Olympus that he hadn’t missed dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been thinking a lot about the source material of general Greek mythology. And honestly, some of it gets... weird. Since I'm not writing a kid's book, I feel like I can explore the less child-friendly aspects. I'm not gonna go super graphic or gross, but I'm excited to explore the more ridiculous myths. Just be ready for some of the future chapters to go to some very Strange™ places.


	12. A Lot of Things Happen in a Very Short Amount of Time and it's Pretty Exhausting, To Be Honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, a couple things.
> 
> 1: Contains mention of vomit and vomiting characters. Nothing graphic or explicit, but fair warning.
> 
> 2: You know how I've been on hiatus? And the last chapter was super short? Well... this chapter has the opposite problem, since it's so long it crashed my browser the first few times I tried to upload it. But hopefully that makes up for my lack of activity? Anyway, it might have some typos and format errors since AO3 likes to add extra spaces sometimes, especially around italics. But I'm so tired at this point, y'all just live with it.  
> The length is mostly just getting the plot all in the right place to progress. If I were writing a novel I'd've planned out the pacing better but... here we are! Honestly though, I'm proud of this chapter. I'm a better writer than i used to be, or at least I like to think I am.

**DAMON**

On the other side of the Cabin door was a very familiar and very unwelcome sight. Tom looked surprised to see him, but quickly masked his expression and scowled. His eyes were the same eyes that had so thoroughly hurt and humiliated him that summer, but now they were six months older. So was Damon.

“What are you doing here?” Damon asked before he could stop himself.

“Walking. It’s my camp too, flower boy.” Damon instantly regretted his outburst. It was stupid, but Tom still scared him. He was still the coward he’d been last summer, but perhaps Tom didn’t realize that.

“Not much of a flower boy anymore. That’s my summer thing.”

“Now what are you. Corpse boy? Bone boy?”

“Want to find out?”

“Bone boy it is. Nico’s been teaching you, hasn’t he? You his fuckbuddy or something?”

“I-”

“Whatever,” said Tom. His voice sounded almost offhanded, but Damon could tell it was still deeply calculated. “Just don’t get comfortable. I’ve had 6 months of training since summer. What’ve you had? Another present from your mommy?”

“No.” It wasn’t as cold and clever as Tom’s words, but it was all Damon could think of to say.

“Bad luck. You’re not a year rounder. Without her help, you’ll never be able to play on that level. Good luck tonight. You’ll need it.” Tom smiled a little at the end, which made Damon’s palm sweat nervously, and turned away.

“What are you talking about?” Damon called after him. Tom didn’t even look round when he responded.

“It’s Friday, bone boy. Let’s hope you’re not out of practice.” Damon fell silent, his stomach turning over. He remained in the doorway until Tom disappeared in the distance, trying to think through his clouded brain.

Tonight was capture the flag. Of course it was. A conch sound echoed over the ground and Damon’s legs turned on automatic, directing him to the Pavilion as his mind began a clumsy race. Tom had been in the back of his mind for a while now. The last time they’d met, he’d been almost afraid of Damon, whose nerves had slowly started to feed a subtle anger. But as soon as they were once again face to face, Tom’s cold intelligence punctured the confidence that Damon thought he almost had. But that was probably what he wanted, right? No way did he just happen to be outside the Hades Cabin. He wanted to intimidate Damon. Unfortunately, he’d been successful.

“You are worried about something,” said a strange and familiar voice. Damon looked up to see a boy with dirty blond hair and wide eyes fall into step beside him. Despite his concerns, Damon smiled.

“Hi, Tors.” It was good to see his old friend. Not just because he’d missed him (after all, you couldn’t go on a life-threatening quest to the Underworld together without becoming at least somewhat close), but because the physical sight of him was good news. His left eye looked completely healed, with the same flecks of purple sparkling in the hazel iris. His right was still milky pale but had some of the same purple pinpoints at the center.

“Hi,” said Tors. He didn’t smile, but his arm seemed to fidget in what Damon interpreted as an equivalent.

“It’s good to see you too. Your eyes look…?”

“Better. I can see with one of them.”

“You can? That’s great!” Damon was taken aback. Given that Tors had been blinded by a god, this was more than he could’ve hoped for.

“It is great.” Tors looked aimlessly around, his head wandering like a charmed snake as if he was showing off his restored vision. “Will is good at healing.” The pair drew up outside the Dining Pavilion. Lines of demigods- one for each Cabin- were already starting to form, and Damon looked among the crowd of the Demeter Cabin.

“Is Sara…?” But Tors shook his head.

“She left as soon as she was feeling better.”

 _At least she was feeling better_ , thought Damon. The last time he’d seen her, Sara had looked so pale and sunken she might have been half dead.

Before Damon could say anything else, Tors drifted over to Pollux, the only other member of the Dionysus Cabin, and they followed the Aphrodite Cabin into the Pavilion. Damon looked around, spotting Nico and Hazel and approaching them.

“...don’t look normal. Did he create them?” Damon heard Hazel ask as he drew close. Nico opened his mouth to answer, but just then he caught sight of Damon and fell silent, nudging Hazel.

“Hey,” said Damon awkwardly, unable to shake the impression that he had heard something he wasn’t supposed to. Perhaps they’d been talking about him.

“Sleep well?” asked Nico. Damon shrugged.

“More or less,” he said vaguely as the thought of his dream popped back into his head. As the three of them turned and entered the Pavilion, Nico and Hazel started a conversation about someone called Leo. Since Damon didn’t recognize the name, he lapsed into silence, sitting across from the others at the Hades table.

“...on Festus, in case the eagle didn’t make it. He’ll probably arrive at Camp Jupiter soon.”

“Guess I just missed him,” said Hazel. Damon kept tuning in and out of the conversation, interested but entirely in the dark on who they were talking about. His brain wandered, but never far enough to form a complete thought, so to occupy himself he loaded his plate and went to the bonfire, a line forming behind him.

“For Persephone.” Closing his eyes, he pushed a hearty portion of potatoes into the flames. “And Hades,” he added under his breath. “And… anyone who’s hungry.”

Damon ate largely in silence and thought. Nico had reminded him of his dream, and its bizarre imagery was once again haunting his imagination.

“You OK?” Nico’s words snapped Damon back to reality.

“Oh? Yeah. Sorry. Just… bad dream.” Hazel and Nico both nodded in understanding; a demigod who slept peacefully was quite a rarity. Except in the Hypnos Cabin.

“What was it?”

“Zagreus. I think.” Hazel and Nico both looked concerned, and a sudden question rose to Damon’s lips. “You don’t think… you don’t think there’s a mole at Camp, do you?”

If either Hazel or Nico was surprised, they didn’t show it. Instead, Hazel expression was one of subtle worry, while a small understanding sparked in Nico’s eyes.

“The _cerastes_?” He asked. Damon nodded.

“Chiron talked to me last summer. _Someone_ had to have let them in, right?”

“Maybe the boundary’s been weakened. Didn’t someone poison it once?” asked Hazel.

“I think so, but that was before I arrived here,” Nico looked down at his food. “That’s why we have the fleece. If something was wrong with it, I think we’d know.”

“Then who…” Hazel trailed off, voicing what all three of them were thinking.

After dinner, the conversations throughout the Pavilion heated up, crackling with excitement. Damon wasn’t surprised to hear that the Athena Cabin held the laurels, his stomach dropping when Annabeth carried in a silky gray banner and he saw Tom over her shoulder, smirking.

After Annabeth, Connor Stoll brought in another flag, accompanied by cheers from the Hermes table, and, to Damon’s surprise, most of the other tables, too. Seeing his expression, Nico laughed a little.

“Athena’s won every game in a row for months. Everyone’s pretty sick at this point. There’s an alliance against them. They barely managed to get the Ares and Hephaestus Cabins on their side, and it took a _lot_ of bribery.”

“So we’ve got the number advantage,” Hazel said, excitement underlying her calm voice. “But Annabeth knows that.”

“Athena kids plans for everything. They’ve been at a number disadvantage for three weeks and they still won. Even Percy’s swapped sides at this point.”

Just then, Chiron slammed his hoof on the marble floor and the campers fell silent.

“Heroes! You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magical items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have a maximum of two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but not bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and medic. Arm yourselves!”

With a percussive clatter, all sorts of armor and weapons appeared on the table. Examining a nearby breastplate, Damon remembered being pretty good at Capture the Flag by the time he left- he had an affinity for the forest, after all. But now he was out of practice. And it was winter. And it didn’t help that he’d had less than two hours to prepare.

“You should talk to them,” Nico pointed over at Connor Stoll, who was in thoughtful discussion with a dark-haired camper Damon didn’t recognize. “They’ve been strategizing all week.”

“Thanks,” said Hazel. Damon, who was about to say the same thing, quickly closed his mouth and followed her to the pair of demigods who were glancing over their shoulders as they talked.

“...could use more numbers on the west defense,” said Connor Stoll. He looked up as Hazel joined the circle, while Damon dawdled awkwardly, half on the outside. “Most of the Hecate Cabin is on scouting, so it might be useful to have a Mist user on attack.” The dark-haired demigod looked intensely at Hazel for a second before nodding slightly. Now that he was closer, Damon could see a quite fire in his eyes. His face might not have been naturally brooding, but his expression hung a curtain of ferocity over his features.

“Scouting. With them.” He pointed to a group of Apollo kids, plus one or two from the Hecate Cabin, in particularly lightweight armor, “But if shit hits the fan- _when_ shit hits the fan, leave them behind to be captured.” Hazel blinked in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yes,” said the boy, even quieter than before. “They’ll expect you to- they’ve got a job to do in enemy territory. You need to get back to the flag. Nico will be there. He’ll explain what to do.”

“Got it.” Hazel nodded, joining the Apollo scouting party and gearing up with lightweight armor.

“You sure, Damien? She’s real powerful. We could use her on the front lines.”

“No,” said Damien quietly. “I’ve heard about her. Daughter of Pluto, right? And she’s a Mist user. The plan’s good, but it’s not perfect. We need to use what we’ve got.” Then, Damien turned and pointed directly at Damon, who still hovered a couple of feet away. “What about him? I haven’t seen him before.”

“Oh,” said Connor Stoll, ghosting a mischievous grin at the sight of Damon. “That’s Damon. Son of Persephone.”

“Persephone?” Damien raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like I missed a lot last summer.” He addressed Damon directly. “Damien White, son of Nemesis.”

“The goddess of retribution,” Damon remembered out loud. After the Athena Cabin’s absurd win streak, no wonder the son of revenge was out for blood. While all campers looked at least some degree of determined, Damien oozed a drive to win that was a hundred times the intensity of anyone else’s. To say he’d rather die than lose might have been an understatement.

For almost thirty seconds, Damien stared at him in complete silence. Shifting uncomfortably, Damon tried to look at Connor, but he merely shrugged. Eventually, Damien looked directly into Damon’s eyes and released his breath in a decisive burst.

“Scouting.” Connor raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn’t even begin to question Damien’s judgment. Having been assigned his role, Damon turned to join Hazel, but a sudden grip on his arm stopped him.

“No,” said Damien. “Not with them. Go alone. Less noise that way. We’ve got a few smaller parties for stealth. Their job is to find Annabeth and get that invisibility cap off of her- as long as she has it, she can sneak through our perimeter. Think you can handle that?”

“Yeah,” he lied. “I think I can handle that.”

Damien and Connor released him from interrogation, so he started to drift among the other Campers. He selected a tough leather armor- strong enough to stop arrows from mid to long range, but much quieter than the metallic alternatives. It wasn’t strong protection, but if Damon played his cards right, it would do just fine. He fiddled with his dagger- his only weapon, hoping that he wouldn’t have to use it as long as he stayed out of sight.

“How was it?” Nico had approached him silently from behind, and Damon dropped his helmet in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Nico showed a curious smile. “How was _he_?”

“Damien?” Nico nodded. “Uh,” Damon searched for a tactful adjective. “He was... a lot.” Nico laughed.

“I’ll say. Have you ever seen a blessing?”

“Like, the blessing of Aphrodite?”

“That’s one of them. Sometimes, a god will bless one of their children for a while. Ares kids get it in times of war, Aphrodite kids get it when they’re claimed…”

“Is that what’s happening to Damien?”

“Not sure,” Nico shrugged. “There’s never been a blessing of Nemesis before, but that’s what I think. The more the Athena cabin won, the more intense he got. Honestly? I kinda like it.”

“Something you wanna tell me, Nico?” Will had appeared, wearing lightweight scouting armor and glaring something fierce. “You talk a lot about Damien lately.” Nico held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Can’t a guy have professional curiosity?”

“I’m still not sure about him.” He cast a jealous glance over his shoulder.

“Don’t be immature.”

“I mean his plan,” Will insisted. “He’s reckless at the best of times. Been in my infirmary almost as much as the Ares kids. He’ll put anyone in danger if it gets us the win.”

“You act like that’s a bad thing,” said Nico coyly. Will rolled his eyes before walking off.

“Just be careful,” he said over his shoulder. Damon watched him go in awkward silence his mind stirred, his curiosity distilled by something Will said.

“The ‘plan’…” he said. Nico, who had been staring after Will, looked back at Damon. “Damien said you had something to do with it.”

“We’re not supposed to talk about it- no doubt the Athena Cabin is spying on us. We just stick to our roles."

“What’s yours?”

“Top secret.” Nico grinned. “What’s yours?”

“Hat scouting,” said Damon cryptically. Nico nodded in understanding.

“Good luck with that. Annabeth won’t give it up easily.”

“No kidding.”

“But if you do get it…” Nico suddenly dropped his voice. “And if you escape back to friendly territory with it- which would be real difficult- get it to me. I’ll be at the flag.”

“Yeah, Damien said something like that.” Somehow, hearing Nico’s answer meant Damon knew even less. He wanted to ask more questions, but when the crowd collectively shifted and marched out of the Pavilion, he bit back his tongue. “I’ll do my best.”

* * *

It took a surprisingly short while for the crowds to funnel towards the forest and trickle between the trees to their assigned posts. Where there was normally loud, polyphonic chatter, an intense quiet filled the air and charged it with a singular focus. Once inside the forest, the sound became even more distant as the campers spread out over the maze-like expanse. Soon it was eclipsed by the hum of the forest itself, by dusk birdsong and multi-legged scuttles.

Damon liked it here. But it had been months since he’d last seen it. The winter had frosted the Earth and stripped most of the trees bare. He wondered what that must be like for the nymphs. Were they hibernating? Were they naked? Come to think of it- were they ever clothed? But despite the differences, it still eased Damon’s breath the same way. This confused him at first, and he wandered through friendly territory, trying to puzzle it out. With Persephone living among the dead, he expected to lose his connection with the natural world, becoming more like a son of Hades than of Demeter. But, as he stepped delicately over a decomposing rodent, he realized the forest contained as much death as it did life.

An excited squeaking shook him out of his introspection, and he looked up. A long-eared bat was rocketing towards him through the air, and Damon didn’t dodge in time to stop it from crashing into his torso. Damon instinctively sheathed his dagger, reached out and caught it in cupped hands before it could hit the ground. Obviously stunned, it reared a small, swaying head and looked up at him.

“Whoops.”

“Hi, Caddy,” said Damon, laughing a little. “Rough day?” Caddy was one of the bats he’d befriended last summer, although admittedly, not one he saw very often. He wasn’t exactly a gifted flier.

“Bug!” Caddy mumbled confusedly, staring at a trail of woodlice and trying to flap his wings.

“Hey-” Damon scolded. “Give it a minute. That was a nasty crash.”

“Nasty _,_ ” Caddy agreed, slumping back into his cupped hands as if they were a king-sized bed.

“Tell you what. I’ll get you as many bugs as you can eat if you help me with-”

“MANY BUGS?!” Caddy’s sudden squeak was so loud it made Damon’s ears ring. He was not a hard sell.

“I need your help first. How’s your echolocation?” Caddy looked up at Damon in confusion, reminding him about bats’ difficulty with words that had more than four syllables. “Your mouthsight, I mean.”

“Mouthsight? Good! Good Mouthsight!”

“Great.” Damon smiled a little. Caddy was squirming with excitement in a particularly adorable display. “I’m looking for a person I can’t see. I need to tell you when you mouthsee people nearby.”

“Selma nearby!” Caddy shouted. “Bugs now?” Selma was one of the other bats, and Damon sighed at Caddy’s endearing enthusiasm.

“Not Selma. Human people. Big people.”

“Big people? Like you!”

“That’s right- like me. So can you-”

“And like them!”

Damon whirled around, passing Caddy to his left hand and drawing his dagger with his right. But his blade became caught in his leather armor, and he jerked at in panicked frustration.

“Shouldn’t let your guard down,” said a girl with short, ink black hair and green eyes that glowed in the shadowed forest.

“Ash,” Damon breathed in relief. “It’s been a while.”

“Has it?” Ash shrugged. “Guess I’ve been busy.”

“Doing, uh…” Damon wondered how a tree could be busy but was worried it would be insensitive to ask. “...doing what?”

“Dressing for winter. The deciduous are having a competition to see who’ll keep their leaves the longest.”

“Who’s winning?”

“Me, obviously,” Ash grinned. Damon couldn’t be sure if she was quite telling the truth. But, realizing the game was carrying on without him, he pressed a question.

“Seen anyone invisible around here?”

“We’re not supposed to take sides,” said Ash, her green eyes showing a dark, subdued twinkle. Damon shrugged.

“It was worth a-”

“That way.” Ash pointed between the trees, roughly towards the creek. Damon peered into the indicated darkness. When he looked back, Ash had disappeared, leaving the Damon left with the suddenly uncertain question of whether he could trust her.

* * *

The forest remained quiet for a long time. Damon approached the creek, deciding to trust Ash- for now at least. As he walked, he heard no distant clangs of swords on armor, no bombs or traps from the Hephaestus Cabin bruising the silence. Silence, that is, except for Caddy’s intermittent chattering in Damon’s left ear about all the things he was echolocating. The woods, it seemed, were waiting for something big. Both teams were serious about winning, and both teams were careful because of it. The red team refused to underestimate the Athena Cabin, especially Annabeth. In return, Annabeth seemed smart enough not to underestimate her opponents.

A couple of times, Caddy warned him of approaching figures, but each time they turned out to be scouting parties for the red team. With little else to do, Damon tried to imagine what Annabeth must be thinking. She was outnumbered, overpowered… her only option was unpredictability. She had to outsmart them, enough to misdirect their attacks, fool their guards…

“Someone there,” Caddy squeaked. Damon instantly tensed up, subtly withdrawing his dagger and glancing around. He couldn’t see anyone. Where they hidden? Or invisible?

“Where?” he whispered.

“Two of them. One behind. One to left.” Damon didn’t turn around, for fear of letting them know he knew they were there.

“Are they approaching?”

“Not yet.”

“Let me know if they move.” Damon’s mind raced. Was this an attack? What were they waiting for? He needed to act quickly. He needed to clear his head. He needed to think like Annabeth.

“BEHIND!”

Damon swung his dagger, barely blocking a blow from a blade of a similar small size. A bronze dagger, glinting in what little light there was. Grey eyes stared piercingly at him, calculating his every move.

“Morning, Annabeth.” It made no sense to say it. It wasn’t even close to morning. Perhaps he’d just been thinking of Tors. Either way, she didn’t let it confuse her, but it gave Damon enough time to push her back and retreat a few steps.

Annabeth’s blond hair was pulled behind her, practicality over image, and she wore leather armor, like Damon, prioritizing stealth over protection. From her belt swung her fabled cap, dangling like prison keys as if tempting him to approach.

One look in those eyes told Damon he couldn’t outsmart her. His mind raced at a 5 miles a minute, all towards the same conclusions: she was a better fighter than him, a better thinker, a better hero…

 _No._ He forced himself out of doubt. There was no time for that here. She was running in for a second attack. She wanted him to fight back. She was playing him, predicting him… his only option was to be as unpredictable as possible.

In a single motion, he raised his dagger and hurled it towards the ground. He expected it to stick in the dirt like a knife in butter, but the hilt hit the soil first and it fell limp across the rotting leaves. In one motion, he dodged Annabeth’s blow as best he could. She managed to clip his helmet with the hilt, but he escaped the worst of it, his left ear ringing from the impact. As Annabeth steadied herself, Damon calmed his breathing as much as he could and raised his hands.

“You got me,” he said. Annabeth stared at him. It was impossible to tell if this was what she wanted or not.

“Surrendering?” she asked. “Already?”

“I can’t beat you. I’m no swordfighter, and I’m nowhere near your level.”

“You’re not awful,” she approached warily. “You could last at least twenty seconds against me. That’s more than most people.”

Damon’s mind kicked from high gear into slow motion. She had a plan. Annabeth always had a plan. He needed to _think_.

 _Why isn’t she wearing the cap?_ Said a voice into his right ear. _Why is it hanging by her belt?_

“BEHIND BEHIND BEHIND BEHIND BEHIND-” Screamed a voice into his left ear. This voice was a lot louder. It belonged to Caddy.

Of course. That wasn’t the cap. It was a decoy. Everyone expected Annabeth to be invisible, and she’d capitalized on that. So someone else was wearing the cap, and she was the distraction.

But maybe she didn’t know everything. She didn’t know about the bats, she didn’t know that Damon had a second pair of eyes.

Damon couldn’t understand how he did what he did. He didn’t turn around- as if there was enough time even glance over his shoulder. But he saw what was happening. It was as if he was a TV camera, watching something thick and wooden levitate over his head. He saw himself reach back and up to grab it- a fallen tree branch- and twist it out of his invisible attacker’s hand. His shoulder found the limits of its available angles, making an unpleasant crunching sound. Twisting his torso, he managed to bring the branch down on his would-be attacker, stunning them.

With the force of a firing gun, Damon’s vision snapped back into his head. He was no longer viewing the scene in third person. In the air in front of him (or behind him, he was no longer sure) a head of brown hair blinked into existence, as did the Yankees cap that had been knocked off of it. On instinct, Damon dropped the branch and plucked it from the air.

He had the cap.

But he was also surrounded by a genius and a brute. For a moment, not unlike a western duel, the entire scene held its breath in anticipation. The muscular girl stumbled back, barely stunned by Damon’s blow.

“Another one,” squeaked Caddy. A third attacker? Damon didn’t have time to look for them. Annabeth raised her dagger, while the muscular girl raised fists. Damon’s own weapon was still lying at Annabeth’s feet, yet to return to his pocket. All he had was the cap. Invisibility wouldn’t help much here. He couldn’t beat them. He needed an escape.

“HEY, WISE GIRL!” Thank Olympus- it wasn’t a third attacker. It was an ally. As the muscular girl regained her balance and prepared to charge, Percy appeared in a flash of bronze. At last betraying some surprise, Annabeth raised her dagger and deftly blocked Percy’s attack. Surprised, but not off balance. She launched a counterattack at once. But the muscular girl was still a threat. Now that his attention wasn’t diverted, Damon recognized her as Clarisse La Rue, head of the Ares Cabin.

There was no way he could outrun her.

He ran anyway.

And then the forest vanished. The shadows, the trunks, the half-hidden sky all dissolved into each other. He was hurtling through some impossibly dark tunnel. Caddy squeaked in sudden fear, but the sound was drowned out by some infernal buzzing. A hundred thousand bees or locust, echoing in Damon’s ears enough to drown out his thoughts. Though the darkness was absolute, there was a light above him. Some strange white sun, whose light did not penetrate the darkness, but encouraged it. Damon could feel it burning his skin, and yet it was cold. The insects, particles of darkness, rose and shut like a pair of jaws, obscuring and fracturing the light with their uncountable bodies.

And as soon as it started, Damon found himself on some cold stone floor, panting so hard he might vomit. Unfortunately, Caddy did not quite possess Damon’s willpower, and a thin trickle of bat puke trickled down his leather armor.

Shadow travel. Damon knew what it was. It was the same sensation he felt as Nico and Hazel transported him past the Kokytos. But it was different- those insects, that cold fiery sun… what were they? And besides, Damon couldn’t shadow travel on his own. He didn’t even know how to try.

His next question, which should probably have been his first, was ‘ _Where in all Hades am I.’_

He was kneeling on an old stone floor, with stone walls and what might have been an alter on a stone table behind him, dressed in a fine, blue velvet table cloth. He tried to stand up, to analyze his surroundings, but the sound of approaching voices made him reconsider.

In less than a second, Damon slid beneath the table and quieted his breathing. The velvet cloth swayed, disturbed, before falling limp just as a shadow appeared behind it. From his shoulder, Caddy let out another limp squeak.

Silent as a ghost, Damon lifted Caddy from his shoulder and set him on the floor, pointedly zipping his mouth shut. Caddy seemed to understand the gesture, or else he understood the danger they were in.

“...grown much stiffer, don’t you think?” A woman’s voice? It was sharp with vocal fry, like some upper-level receptionist.

“Yes,” said another voice. It was much softer and sounded like it came from a much younger girl.

“But it’s far from enough. How is the new arrival?”

“She no longer struggles,” the second voice purred. “We won’t underestimate her again.”

“Good. It will be a great asset to have a demigod in our number. And she is quite a remarkable sight. Wake her.”

A shuffling of steps, the dry shuddering sound of someone pulled roughly to consciousness, and a third voice appeared.

“Oh. You.”

Damon knew that voice. He knew it. Some half-formed memory twitched like a minnow, but in his effort tried to fish, it took him a while to notice that all the voices had fallen silent.

The absence of voice stretched taught over the passing seconds. Had they noticed? Had they heard something? Damon held his breath. His knees were starting to protest their contact with the unforgiving floor, his joints first aching, then numbing, then tingling, and then aching again, only with twice the pain. He shifted his weight, barely daring to breathe despite his empty lungs. And as he moved, an almighty clicking echoed across the stone. His knees had clicked, the joints settling into a more comfortable alignment at the expense of stealth.

 _Now? Really?_ Of all the worst times to have your joints click unexpectedly, this had to be among the top five, at least. In his exasperation, Damon failed to stop a small gasp- quiet, but audible enough to seal his fate.

“What are you-?” asked the third voice, the one Damon recognize but could put no effort to identifying. His fingers fiddling with the cloth between them, Damon’s whirred in search of an escape and came up entirely empty. If anyone removed that velvet tablecloth, he was done for.

“That wasn’t us,” said the soft voice, carrying the alertness of a startled predator. The first voice didn’t speak, but the figure that probably belonged to it seemed to shuffle slightly, judging by the thin sliver of shadow that was visible to Damon

She knew he was there. Something disturbed the velvet from behind. He glanced at Caddy, who was wide-eyed with animalistic terror, and Damon wasn’t any less scared. His fingers fiddled haphazardly with the Yankees cap, his-

_THE YANKEES CAP_

There was no time to curse his stupidity. Just as a hand grabbed the blue cloth, he rammed the cap onto his head. As the velvet was whipped away, Damon saw his own hands and legs vanish into thin air.

A woman peered into the darkness. She looked directly through Damon, her bloodshot eyes raking in every obscure detail. Her skin was white and sunken, but her lips were unnervingly red, with her hair loose and wavy.

When her eyes found Caddy, still trembling on the stone floor, Damon felt his heart stop. But he didn’t dare move. Perhaps, in the darkness, she couldn’t see the shivering black creature.

“Just a bat,” she said with a horrible finality. In an impossibly fast motion, a gaunt hand with claw-like nails grabbed Caddy and withdrew. He was squeaking in terror, writhing with what little freedom the unforgiving hand gave him. She was squeezing him too hard, much too hard. He was screaming.

Damon lunged. With invisibility on his side, he prised open her talons before she could react. Her skin was cold, her nails digging into Damon’s palms. Her left hand, which had been lifting the velvet table cloth, at once dropped it in surprise. It draped itself over Damon’s head and shoulders, instantly broadcasting the presence of the invisible figure that crouched there.

He had Caddy. The bat was still writhing, in pain or fear he could not tell, but he was free. And now the sunken woman knew he was there. Damon retreated back beneath the table as her nails ripped through the cloth in a split second attack, too fast to block or dodge in the cramped space beneath the cold light was deafening his eyes and the insects were blinding his ears.

He was shadow traveling again.

He was in the forest again.

What the hell just happened.

 

In prompt, business-like fashion, Damon leaned over and vomited.

“ _Uh, what THE SHIT-”_

Damon stumbled to his feet, the cap falling from his head and tumbling to the Earth.

“Damon?”

“Uhhghh…” replied Damon, his stomach threatening to empty itself again. This time, Caddy was in his hands, not on his shoulder, so the tributaries of bat puke leaked through his fingers and joined the puddle on the forest floor. He stumbled forwards and felt strong arms catch him.

“You OK?”

“Perfectly fine, thank you,” said Damon as his knees gave out from beneath him. The arms kept him upright, dangling him like a rag doll. Damon stared blearily up to find Percy staring at him with more than a little confusion.

“That was shadow travel,” said another voice. Nico appeared in Damon’s blurred field of view. “Did you just shadow travel… by yourself?”

“No…” Damon murmured. “Something… took me there.” He realized it was true as he said it. “Don’t know what.”

“Took you where,” asked Percy. “Took you _here_?”

“Wh…” Damon blinked. His vision cleared just long enough to see a flag spiking out of the ground a short distance away. “Took me… stone place.”

“Let me,” said another voice. Damon was getting tired of identifying voices. This one belonged to a girl. Before he could respond, there was an audible crack, and a fiery pain shot through his legs, revitalizing them. As his vision stopped swaying, he found he was able to stand on his own. When shy embarrassment caught up to him, he quickly stepped away from Percy.

“Thanks,” Damon breathed. He was better, but he was still damaged. Now that he had a moment to think, his shoulder reminded him quite forcibly of how much he had twisted it in the confrontation with Clarisse and Annabeth. It stung harder every time he moved it, and absolutely refused to let him raise his arm above shoulder height.

“No problem,” said the girl. It took a moment of blunt concentration, but he finally identified her as Lou Ellen, head of the Hecate Cabin. “I’m no Will Solace, but it should keep you moving.”

Suddenly, the world started to spin again. It was only for a moment, but Damon stumbled backward in a daze, almost dropping Caddy, who was still trembling in his gentle grip. Damon brought him up to eye level and squinted. He was still breathing, there was no blood, but he didn’t look in good shape.

“Are you…?” Damon asked, afraid to know the answer. If Caddy died, it would be his fault for bringing him into this mess.

“Wings… bad.” Damon stared as he tried to unfold his wings. Their delicate structure had been crushed by the woman’s merciless grip, and they hung, limp and twisted at his sides.

“I’ll get you better, you’ll see. I can fix this. Can you hold on for a little longer?”

“...is he OK?” Lou asked while Caddy gave a weak nod. “Something happen to his brain or…?”

“He can talk to them,” said Nico. “Damon, where have you been?”

“Don’t know. Finish the game without me. Here, I got you the…” he stumbled and leaned down, snatching the Yankees cap away from the rapidly advancing pool of vomit. He offered it to Percy, but another pair of hands intercepted it.

“ _You got it?_ ” breathed Damien, appearing from nowhere and staring at the hat with a strange fervor. Damon blinked hard and looked around, trying to get a better view of his surroundings.

The flag stood in a thicket of bush, with a couple of guards nearby. Lou Ellen, Nico, Percy and Damien all stood around him. Hazel was a little further off, listening to their conversation but keeping an eye out for potential attacks.

“Look, do whatever you’re planning. Just point me towards an infirmary.”

Damien looked unsure, but Nico nodded in understanding.

“Sure. That way.” He gestured through the trees. “When you reach the creek, follow it downstream.”

“Thanks,” Damon breathed, and he stumbled into an exhausted walk.

“I’ll come with you,” said Nico, but Damien instantly cut him off.

“No. We need you for the plan. Percy is the extra muscle. He can go.”

There was an uncomfortable silence before everyone realized that the authority of the situation had made the final decision. Percy shifted, before joining Damon as he resumed walking. Behind them, the flag and Damien’s muttered military instructions grew smaller and quieter until the pair were traversing through an almost silent wood.

 

“What happened?” Percy asked. He was gentler than Damon expected.

“I was running from Clarisse and… something took me. Shadow traveled me.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” Damon repeated. “Somewhere cold and made of stone. Felt like a church. I didn’t get a good look.”

“And then what?” Percy continued. The sound of running water edged into peripheral hearing.

“Two people appeared. Women, I think. I only saw one of them. They talked about a new arrival or something. Maybe a prisoner. A girl. And her voice…” Damon flinched in frustration. “I’ve heard it before. I’ve _heard_ it.”

Percy didn’t ask any more questions. As they found the river and followed along its bank, they remained in uneasy silence. What had happened was so fast and confusing, Damon’s already overworked brain recoiled from the idea of unpacking it. She shadow travel had exhausted him so quickly and completely, it felt like it’d given him whiplash. As the trees thinned and the edge of the forest came into view, so too did a white tent, almost ghostly in the absence of light. How long had he been gone?

Will Solace was waiting for them, surrounded by a couple of wounded campers and, to Damon’s confusion, a small piglet. Candle lamps illuminated the area, barely flickering in the still, icy air.

“Lou Ellen’s been busy,” Percy nodded at the piglet as they approached. Will looked up, then sighed. “I warned her not to do it in the forest. Pigs get hunted. But did she listen?”

“Can you heal animals?” Damon blurted out. Will blinked at him, and he held out the struggling Caddy.

“Uh… I can do my best,” said Will, and took the delicate creature from him. Damon watched as he took him to a corner of the tent and lay him on a table to examine him.

“You made quite an entrance back there,” said Percy. Damon turned to look at him. He was staring off into the forest, and though his face was calm, his fingers fiddled restlessly with a pen that Damon recognized was his sword in disguise. In the background, Will started uttering a gentle prayer of healing. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen an invisible person vomit, but it was a first for me.”

“You want to go back,” said Damon, hardly listening. “You can go if you want. I’m sure Damien would be glad to have you.”

“Hmm?” Percy glanced down at his pen, as if only now realizing it was there. “Oh, no. Reflexes.”

“ADHD?”

“You bet. I’m tired of hero work. I’ve done my fair share. But my body never quite shuts off.”

“Sounds exhausting.” Percy gave a quiet laugh.

“That’s one word for it.”

“But…?” Damon said, sensing there was more to what Percy was saying.

“Remember last summer, when Zagreus turned up in the forest?” Damon nodded. That inhuman voice was not easily forgotten. “And the great prophecy. It talked about 8 new heroes. Zagreus seems pretty sure I’m one of them. I’ve done quests before but… they’re never fun. I have a mom. And I have a sibling now.”

“Yeah…” said Damon slowly. It started to dawn on him that Percy was still a teenager, but he’d already suffered more than a small civilization.

“Last time it all started with me going missing. No note. No explanation. Don’t know how my mom coped.”

“What happened?”

“A god switched me with someone else, dropped me off the other side of the country without a single memory of who I was.”

Damon wanted to speak, but that idea was too terrifying to put into any kind of sentence.

“And now it’s all starting again,” Damon managed at last. Percy shrugged.

“There’s a fan on the horizon, and we’re the shit. People always die during great prophecies. Demigods more than anyone else. Wonder who’ll be the first to go. Wonder who’ll be the one I miss the most.”

A very deep-rooted silence followed those words. Damon shivered, though not from the frigid air. After a small while, Will approached. Damon wondered how much he’d heard, how much he even needed to hear.

“Here. I’ve done the best I can. But he’ll need recovery. Somewhere to stay.” Will handed a sleeping Caddy to Damon, who took him gently into his palm. “Don’t know if he’ll be able to fly again.”

“Thanks,” said Damon in a half whisper, wondering how he’d be able to handle being a hero if he could barely handle the injury of a single bat, and also if Nico wouldn’t mind having a pet bat in Cabin 13.

Another silence. A question, though it only seemed to half matter anymore, rose to Damon’s lips.

“Since we’re not part of the action anymore… what actually is Damien’s plan?” At this, Percy permitted a sly grin.

“It’s diabolical. I can’t want to see Annabeth’s face. Nico and Hazel, they’re the ones who can shift Earth, so they’re making an underground tunnel right into enemy territory. They’ll pop up right next to the flag. And then they’ll put up a fight against the blue team. And they’ll lose."

“What?” asked Damon, unsure if he’d heard correctly. Apparently he had, because Percy grinned again.

“They’ll get captured. Tied up, most likely. Along with a couple of captured scouting parties.”

“But… if Damien’s so dead set on winning, why not just take the flag? Why let so many of his team get captured?”

“Damien’s the son of revenge,” said Percy. “Of retribution, not victory. That’s where Nike comes in. Nemesis goes after a more… poetic justice.”

“What do you mean?”

“All those scouting parties weren't just Apollo archers, they had Hecate campers too. Then Lou Ellen will be there too. And Hazel. That’s an awful lot of Mist users in one place. Could probably pull off a real powerful illusion if they worked together.”

“...so?” said Damon, an inkling of awe stirring in his gut. He couldn’t see where this was going, but he knew it was gonna be good.

“The trick with manipulating the Mist,” continued Percy, “isn’t to make people see what you want them to see, it’s to make them see what _they_ want to see. And since Damien had her hat on him when he was captured, she probably wants that hat back _real bad_.” Damon’s brain was starting to hurt, but he followed as best he could. “So in theory, you could switch that flag with her hat. Make everyone think she’s holding her cap, when in reality she’s holding the flag. Of course, that’s a big illusion. You’d need a lot of Mist users working together for that…”

“Oh my god,” said Damon in awe.

“So when she launches an attack, when she crosses that boundary line…”

A conch sounded across the camp. Slowly but surely, an incalculable roar rose from the forest: distant at first, but as unstoppable as a hurricane. All at once, a sea of birds and bats crowded the sky as they left their treetop perches.

“...she’ll have carried her own flag into enemy territory. And we’ll have won.”

The beginnings of an ecstatic crowd faded in from the forest shadows, some mad with victory, others with rage.

“If you want revenge done right,” Percy said, “talk to someone from Cabin 16.”

Damon’s memory shuddered into the present. Percy was reminding him, giving him a very meaningful look before he joined the approaching horde.

Damon did want revenge. In fact, he wanted revenge on someone in particular. Some _ones_ in particular.

Back in Cabin 13, he happened to have a list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats for making it through this, what, 7000 word chapter? I have no idea. Going a little crazy with mental health and life's general BS, but writing always helps. 
> 
> Anyway, you've probably heard this before, but comments are lifeblood. If you have a moment, just a few words would make my day. And even better, if you can tell me what isn't working, what I can improve, that'd be Amazing. But if not I'm still glad you read and (hopefully) enjoyed it. Now I'm finally done with this Beast of a chapter I can move on. Next up: anyone remember where I left Jasmine and the others? Just testing you. I mean, I totally remember...
> 
> (Oh, P.S., the most interesting thing to me would be theories or ideas of what you think is happening, or where the story is going. Since I can't have my own outside eye view of my work, understanding other people's questions and theories really helps me understand my pacing and flow, how I reveal information to progress the story.)
> 
> <3  
> ε>


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